LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUFOB&A 


MARY    MAGDALEN 


By  Mr.  Saltus 


HISTORIA   AMORIS 
THE    POMPS    OF   SATAN 

IMPERIAL   PURPLE 
THE   ANATOMY  OF   NEGATION 

VANITY  SQUARE 
THE   PERFUME   OF  EROS 


MARY  MAGDALEN 

A  Chronicle 


EDGAR'  SALTUS 


NEW  YORK 

MITCHELL  KENNERLEY 
MCMVI 


COPYKIQHT,   1891, 

BY  EDGAR  SALTUS. 


MARY  MAGDALEN 


CHAPTER  L 


MARY  MAGDALEN. 


i. 


"  THBEB  to  one  on  Scarlet !  " 

Throughout  the  brand-new  circus  were 
the  eagerness,  the  gesticulations,  shouts, 
and  murmurs  of  an  impatient  throng.  On 
a  ledge  above  the  entrance  a  man  stood, 
a  strip  of  silk  extended  in  his  finger-tips. 
Beneath,  on  either  side,  were  gates. 
About  him  were  series  of  ascending  tiers, 
close-packed,  and  brilliant  with  multi- 
colored robes  and  parasols.  The  sand  of 
the  track  was  very  white  :  where  the  sun- 
light fell  it  had  the  glitter  of  broken 
glass.  In  the  centre  was  a  low  wall ;  at 
one  end  were  pillars  and  seven  great 
balls  of  wood;  at  the  other,  seven  dol- 
phins, their  tails  in  the  air.  The  uproar 

10 


20  MART  MAQDALHN. 

mounted  in  unequal  vibrations,  and 
stirred  the  pulse.  The  air  was  heavy 
with  odors,  with  the  emanations  of  the 
crowd,  the  cloy  of  myrrh.  Through  the 
exits  whiffs  of  garlic  filtered  from  the 
kitchens  below,  and  with  them,  from  the 
exterior  arcades,  came  the  beat  of  tim- 
brels, the  click  of  castanets.  Overhead 
was  a  sky  of  troubled  blue;  beyond,  a 
lake. 

"They  are  off!" 

The  strip  of  silk  had  fluttered  and 
fallen,  the  gates  flew  open,  there  was  a 
rumble  of  wheels,  a  whirlwind  of  sand, 
a  yell  that  deafened,  and  four  tornadoes 
burst  upon  the  track. 

They  were  shell-shaped,  and  before 
each  six  horses  tore  abreast.  Between 
the  horses'  ears  were  swaying  feathers ; 
their  manes  had  been  dyed  clear  pink, 
the  forelocks  puffed ;  and  as  they  bound- 
ed, the  drivers,  standing  upright,  had  the 
skill  to  guide  but  not  the  strength  to 
curb.  About  their  waists  the  reins  were 
tied ;  at  the  side  a  knife  hung ;  from  the 
forehead  the  hair  was  shaven ;  and  every- 


MART  MAGDALEN.  21 

thing  they  wore,  the  waistcoat,  the  short 
skirt,  the  ribbons,  was  of  one  color,  scar- 
let, yellow,  emerald,  or  blue:  and  this 
color,  repeated  on  the  car  and  on  the 
harness,  distinguished  them  from  those 
with  whom  they  raced. 

Already  the  cars  had  circled  the  hippo- 
drome four  times.  There  were  but  three 
more  rounds,  and  Scarlet,  which  in  the 
beginning  had  trailed  applause  behind 
it  as  a  torch  trails  smoke,  lagged  now 
a  little  to  the  rear.  Green  was  leading. 
Its  leadership  did  not  seem  to  please ;  it 
was  cursed  at  and  abused,  threatened 
with  naked  fist;  yet  when  for  the  sixth 
time  it  turned  the  terminal  pillar,  a  shout 
that  held  the  thunder  of  Atlas  leaped 
abroad.  Where  the  yellow  car,  pursued 
by  the  blue,  had  been,  was  now  a  mass  of 
sickening  agitation — twelve  fallen  horses 
kicking  each  other  into  pulp,  the  drivers 
brained  already;  and  down  upon  that 
barrier  of  blood  and  death  swept  the 
scarlet  car.  In  a  second  it  veered  and 
passed;  in  that  second  a  flash  of  steel 
had  cut  the  reins,  and,  as  the  car  swung 


22  MART  MAGDALEN. 

round,  the  driver,  released,  was  tossed  to 
the  track.  What  then  befell  him  no  one 
cared.  Stable-men  were  busy  there ;  the 
car  itself,  unguided,  continued  vertigi- 
nously on  its  course.  If  it  had  lagged 
before,  there  was  no  lagging  now.  The 
hoofs  that  beat  upon  the  ring  plunged 
with  it  through  the  din  down  upon  Emer- 
ald, and  beyond  it  to  the  goal.  And  as 
the  last  dolphin  vanished  and  the  seventh 
ball  was  removed,  the  palm  was  granted, 
and  the  spectators  shouted  a  salutation 
to  the  giver  of  the  games — Herod  Antipas, 
tetrarch  of  Galilee. 

He  was  superb,  this  Antipas.  His 
beard  was  like  a  lady's  fan.  On  his 
cheeks  was  a  touch  of  alkanet ;  his  hair, 
powdered  blue,  was  encircled  by  a  diadem 
set  with  gems.  About  his  shoulders  was 
a  mantle  that  had  a  broad  purple  border  ; 
beneath  it  was  a  tunic  of  yellow  silk. 
Between  the  railing  of  the  tribune  in 
which  he  sat  one  foot  was  visible,  shod 
with  badger's  skin,  dyed  blood-red.  He 
was  superb,  but  his  eyelids  drooped.  He 
had  a  straight  nose  and  a  retreating  fore,-. 


MART  MAGDALEN.  23 

head,  a  physiognomy  that  was  at  once 
weak  and  vicious.  He  looked  melan- 
choly ;  it  may  be  that  he  was  bored. 
At  the  salutation,  however,  he  affected  a 
smile,  and  motioned  that  the  games 
should  continue.  And  as  the  signals,  the 
dolphins  and  the  seven  balls,  appeared 
again,  his  thoughts,  forsaking  the  circus, 
went  back  to  Borne. 

Insecure  in  the  hearts  of  his  people, 
uncertain  even  of  the  continued  favor  of 
the  volatile  monster  who  was  lounging 
then  in  his  Caprian  retreat,  it  was  with 
the  idea  of  pleasing  the  one,  of  flattering 
the  other,  that  he  had  instituted  the 
games.  For  here  in  his  brand-new  Ti- 
berias, a  city  which  he  had  built  in  a 
minute,  whose  colonnades  and  porticoes 
he  had  bought  ready-made  in  Rome,  and 
had  erected  by  means  of  that  magic  which 
only  the  Romans  possessed — in  this  cap- 
ital of  a  parvenu  was  a  mongrel  rabble  of 
Greeks,  Cypriotes,  Egyptians,  Cappado- 
cians,  Syrians,  and  Jews,  whose  temper 
was  uncertain,  and  whose  rebellion  to  be 
feared. 


24  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

Annond  et  spectaculis  indeed !  Antipas 
knew  the  dictum  well ;  and  with  an  up- 
rising in  the  yonderland,  and  a  sedition 
under  his  feet,  what  more  could  he  do 
than  quell  the  first  with  his  mercenaries, 
and  disarm  the  second  with  his  games  ? 
Tiberius,  whom  he  emulated,  never 
deigned  to  appear  at  the  hippodrome ; 
it  was  a  way  he  had  of  showing  his  con- 
tempt for  a  nation.  Antipas  might  have 
imitated  his  sovereign  in  that,  only  he 
was  not  sure  that  Tiberius  would  take 
the  compliment  as  it  was  meant.  He 
might  view  such  abstention  as  the  airs 
of  a  trumpery  tetrarch,  and  depose  him 
there  and  then.  He  was  irascible,  and 
when  displeased  there  were  dungeons  at 
his  command  which  reopened  with  diffi- 
culty, and  where  existence  was  not  secure. 
Ah,  that  sausage  of  blood  and  mud,  how 
he  feared  and  envied  him  !  An  emperor 
now,  a  god  hereafter,  truly  the  dominion 
of  this  world  and  a  part  of  the  next  was 
a  matter  concerning  which  fear  and  envy 
well  might  be. 

And  as  Antipas'  vagabond  fancy  roamed 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  25 

in  and  out  through  the  possibilities  of 
the  Caesar's  sway,  unconsciously  he 
thought  of  another  monster,  the  son  of 
a  priest  of  Ascalon,  who  had  defied  the 
Sanhedrim,  won  Cleopatra,  murdered  the 
woman  he  loved  the  most,  conquered 
Judaea  and  found  it  too  small  for  his 
magnificence — of  that  Herod  in  fact,  his 
own  father,  who  gave  to  Jerusalem  her 
masterpiece  of  marble  and  gold,  and 
meanwhile,  drunk  with  the  dream  of  em- 
pire, had  made  himself  successor  of 
Solomon,  Sultan  of  Israel,  King  of  the 
Jews,  and  who,  even  as  he  died,  had 
vomited  death  and  crowns,  diadems  and 
crucifixions. 

It  was  through  his  legacy  that  Antipas 
ruled.  The  kingdom  had  been  sliced  into 
three  parts,  of  one  of  which  Augustus 
had  made  a  province;  over  another  a 
brother  whom  he  hated  ruled ;  and  he 
had  but  this  third  part,  the  smallest  yet 
surely  the  most  fair.  Its  unparalleled 
garden  surrounded  him,  and  its  eye,  the 
lake,  was  just  beyond.  In  the  amphi- 
theatre the  hills  formed  was  a  city  of 


26  MART  MAGDALEN. 

pink  and  blue  marble,  of  cupolas,  porti- 
coes, volutes,  bronze  doors,  and  copper 
roofs.  Along  the  fringe  of  the  shore  were 
Choraizin  and  Bethsaida,  purple  with 
pomegranates,  Capharnahum,  beloved  for 
its  honey,  and  Magdala,  scented  with 
spice.  The  slopes  and  intervales  were 
very  green  where  they  were  not  yellow, 
and  there  were  terraces  of  grape,  glitter- 
ing cliffs,  and  a  sky  of  troubled  blue, 
wadded  with  little  gold-edged  clouds. 

Yes,  it  was  paradise,  but  it  was  not 
monarchy.  It  was  to  that  he  aspired.  As 
he  mused,  a  rancid-faced  woman  decked 
with  paint  and  ostrich-plumes  snarled  in 
his  ear : 

"What  have  you  heard  of  lohanan?" 

And  as  with  a  gesture  he  signified 
that  he  had  heard  nothing,  she  snarled 
again. 

Antipas  turned  to  her  reflectively,  but 
it  was  of  another  that  he  thought — the 
brown-eyed  bride  that  Arabia  had  given 
him,  the  lithe-limbed  princess  of  the 
desert  whose  heart  had  beaten  on  his 
own,  whom  he  had  loved  with  all  the 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  27 

strength  of  youth  and  weakness,  and 
whom  he  had  deserted  while  at  Borne 
for  his  brother's  wife,  his  own  niece, 
Herodias,  who  snarled  at  his  side. 

Behind  her  were  her  women,  and 
among  them  was  one  who,  as  the  cars 
swept  by,  turned  her  head  with  that 
movement  a  flower  has  which  a  breeze 
has  stirred.  Her  eyes  were  sultry,  dark- 
ened with  stibium  ;  on  her  cheek  was  the 
pink  of  the  sea-shell,  and  her  lips  made 
one  vermilion  rhyme.  The  face  was 
oval  and  rather  small ;  and  though  it  was 
beautiful  as  victory,  the  wonder  of  her 
eyes,  which  looked  the  haunts  of  hope 
fulfilled,  the  wonder  of  her  mouth,  which 
seemed  to  promise  more  than  any  mortal 
mouth  could  give,  were  forgotten  in  her 
hair,  which  was  not  orange  nor  flame, 
but  a  blending  of  both.  And  now,  as  the 
cars  passed,  her  thin  nostrils  quivered, 
her  hand  rose  as  a  bird  does  and  fluttered 
with  delight. 

On  the  adjacent  tiers  were  Greeks, 
fat-calved  Cypriotes,  Cappadocians  with 
flowers  painted  on  their  skin,  red  Egypt  • 


28  if  ART  MAGDALEN. 

ians,  Thracian  mercenaries,  Galilean 
fishermen,  and  a  group  of  Lydians  in 
women's  clothes. 

On  the  tier  just  beyond  was  a  man 
gazing  wistfully  at  the  woman  that  sat 
behind  Herodias.  He  was  tall  and  sinewy, 
handsome  with  the  comeliness  of  the  East. 
His  beard  was  full,  unmarred  at  the 
corners  ;  his  name  was  Judas.  Now  and 
then  he  moistened  his  under  lip,  and  a 
Thracian  who  sat  at  his  side  heard  him 
murmur  "Mary"  and  some  words  of 
Syro-Chaldaic  which  the  Thracian  did 
not  understand. 

To  him  Mary  paid  no  attention.  She 
had  turned  from  the  track.  An  officer 
had  entered  the  tetrarch's  tribune  and 
addressed  the  prince.  Antipas  started ; 
Herodias  colored  through  her  paint.  The 
latter  evidently  was  pleased. 

"  lohanan  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  To 
Machaerus  with  him !  You  may  believe 
in  fate  and  mathematics ;  I  believe  in 
the  axe." 

And  questioningly  Herodias  looked  at 
her  husband,  who  avoided  her  look,  jet 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  29 

signified  his  assent  to  the  command  she 
had  given. 

The  din  continued.  From  the  tier  be- 
yond, Judas  still  gazed  into  the  perils  of 
Mary's  eyes. 

"  Dear  God,"  he  muttered,  in  answer 
to  an  anterior  thought,  "  it  would  be  the 
birthday  of  my  life." 


CHAPTER  H. 


IL 


"0  PROPHET  IOHANAN,  how  fair  you 
are ! " 

lohanan  was  hideous.  His  ankles  were 
in  stocks,  a  chain  about  his  waist  was 
looped  in  a  ring  that  hung  from  the  wall. 
About  his  body  were  tattered  furs,  his 
hair  was  tangled,  the  face  drawn  and 
yellow.  Vermin  were  visible  on  his  per- 
son. His  lips  twitched,  and  his  gums, 
discolored,  were  as  those  of  a  camel  that 
has  journeyed  too  far.  A  tooth  projected, 
green  as  a  fresh  almond  is ;  the  chin  pro- 
jected too,  and  from  it  on  one  side  a  rill 
of  saliva  dripped  upon  the  naked  breast 
On  the  terrace  he  was  a  blur,  a  night- 
mare in  a  garden. 

"Ah,  how  fair!" 

Tantalizing  as  temptation,  Mary  stood 
just  beyond  his  reach.  Her  eyes  were 
full  of  compliments,  her  body  was  bent, 


34  MART  MAGDALEN. 

and,  the  folds  of  her  gown  held  back, 
she  swayed  a  little,  in  the  attitude  of  one 
cajoling  a  tiger.  She  was  quite  at  home 
and  at  her  ease,  and  yet  prepared  for  in- 
stant flight. 

lohanan,  or  John — surnamed,  because 
of  practices  of  his,  the  Baptist — beck- 
oned her  to  approach.  In  his  eyes  was 
the  innocence  that  oxen  have. 

"  My  body  is  chained,  but  my  soul  is 
free!" 

Mary  made  a  pirouette,  and  through 
the  terrace  of  the  citadel  the  rattles  on 
her  ankles  rang. 

It  was  appalling,  this  citadel ;  it  dom- 
inated the  entire  land.  Perched  on  a 
peak  of  basalt,  it  overhung  an  abyss  in 
which  Asphalitis,  the  Bitter  Sea,  lay,  a 
stretch  of  sapphire  to  the  sun.  In  the 
distance  were  the  heights  of  Abraham, 
the  crests  of  Gilead.  Before  it  was  the 
infinite,  behind  it  the  desert.  At  its  base 
a  hamlet  crouched,  and  a  path  hewn  in 
the  rock  crawled  in  zigzags  to  its  gates. 
Irregular  walls  surrounded  it,  in  some 
places  a  hundred  cubits  high,  and  in 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  36 

each  of  the  many  angles  was  a  turret. 
Seen  from  below  it  was  a  threat  in  stone, 
but  within  was  a  caress,  one  of  those 
rapturous  palaces  that  only  the  Orientals 
build.  It  was  called  Machserus.  Peo- 
pled with  slaves  and  legends,  it  was  a 
haunt  of  ghosts  and  fierce  delights. 

And  now  as  Mary  tripped  before  the 
prophet  the  walls  alone  repelled.  The 
terrace  was  a  garden  in  which  were  lilies 
and  sentries.  For  entrance  there  was  a 
portal  of  red  porphyry,  above  which  was 
a  balcony  hemmed  by  a  balustrade  of 
yellow  Numidian  stone. 

Against  it  Antipas  leaned.  He  had 
been  eyeing  the  desert  in  tremulous  sur- 
mise. The  day  before,  he  had  caught 
the  glitter  of  lances,  therewith  spirals  of 
distant  smoke,  and  he  had  become  fear- 
ful lest  Aretas,  that  king  of  Arabia  Pe- 
trsea  whose  daughter  he  had  deserted, 
might  be  meditating  attack.  But  now 
there  was  nothing,  at  most  a  triangular 
mass  speeding  westwards,  of  which  only 
the  edges  moved,  and  which  he  knew  to 
be  a  flight  of  cranes. 


36  MART  MAGDALEN. 

He  took  heart  again  and  gazed  in  the 
valley  below.  It  was  the  anniversary  of 
his  birth.  To  celebrate  it  he  had  invited 
the  stewards  of  his  lands,  the  notables  of 
Galilee,  the  elect  of  Jerusalem,  the  pro- 
curator of  Judaea,  the  emir  of  Tadmor, 
mountaineers  and  Pharisees,  Scribes  and 
herdsmen. 

But  in  the  valley  only  a  few  shepherds 
were  visible.  Along  the  ramparts  sol- 
diers paced.  At  the  further  end  of  the 
terrace  a  group  of  domestics  was  busy 
with  hampers  and  luggage.  The  day  was 
solemnly  still,  exquisitely  clear ;  and  be- 
tween two  hills  came  a  glare  of  gold  pro- 
jected from  the  Temple  of  Jerusalem. 

Through  the  silence  rang  the  tinkle  of 
the  rattles  that  Mary  wore.  The  prophet 
was  beckoning  her. 

"  And  Martha  ?  "  the  tetrarch  heard  him 
ask. 

The  pirouette  ceased  awkwardly. 
Mary's  eyes  forget  their  compliments. 
Hew  brows  contracted,  and,  as  though 
perplexed,  she  held  her  head  a  little  to 
one  side. 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  37 

"  There,"  he  added, "there,  I  know  you 
well.  It  was  at  Bethany  I  saw  you  first, 
Yes,  yes,  I  remember  perfectly  ;  you  were 
leaving,  and  Martha  was  in  tears.  Only 
a  little  since  I  had  speech  with  her.  She 
spoke  of  you  ;  she  knew  you  were  called 
the  Magdalen.  No,"  he  continued,  for 
Mary  had  shrunk  back,  "no,  I  will  not 
curse.  There  is  another  by  whom  you 
will  be  blessed.'' 

Mary  laughed.  "  I  am  going  to  Borne, 
Tiberius  will  give  me  a  palace.  I  shall 
sleep  on  the  down  the  Teutons  bring.  I 
shall  drink  pearls  dissolved  in  falernian. 
I  shall  sup  on  peacocks'  tongues." 

"  No,  Mary,  Borne  you  will  never  see. 
The  Eternal  has  you  in  His  charge.  Tour 
shame  will  be  washed  away." 

"  Shame  to  you,"  she  interrupted. 
"  Shame  and  starvation  too."  She  made 
as  though  she  were  about  to  pirouette 
again.  "  Whom  are  you  talking  of  ?  " 

"  One  whose  shoes  I  am  unworthy  to 
bear." 

For  a  moment  he  seemed  to  meditate  ; 
then,  with  the  melancholy  of  one  renoirac- 


38  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

ing  some  immense  ambition,  he  murmured, 
half  to  himself,  half  to  the  sky,  "  For  him 
to  increase  I  must  diminish." 

"As  for  that,  you  are  not  much  to  look 
at  now.  I  must  go.  I  must  braid  my 
hair  ;  the  emir's  eyes  are  eager." 

"  Mary,"  he  hissed,  and  the  sudden  as- 
perity of  his  voice  coerced  her  as  a  bit 
might  do,  "  you  will  go  to  Capharnahum, 
you  will  seek  him,  you  will  say  lohanan 
is  descended  into  the  tombs  to  announce 
the  Son  of  David." 

Through  the  lateral  entrance  to  the 
terrace  a  number  of  guests  had  entered. 
From  the  balcony  above,  Antipas  leaned 
and  listened.  Some  one  touched  him  ; 
it  was  Herodias. 

"  The  procurator  is  coming,"  she  an- 
nounced. "  You  should  be  at  the  gate." 

"  Ah ! " 

He  seemed  indifferent.  What  lohanan 
had  said  concerning  the  Son  of  David 
stirred  him  like  the  point  of  sword.  He 
felt  that  there  could  be  no  such  person  ; 
his  father  had  put  a  stop  to  all  that.  And 
yet,  if  there  were ! 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  39 

His  indifference  surprised  Herodias. 

"  What  are  you  staring  at  ?  "  she  asked ; 
and  to  assure  herself  she  looked  over 
the  balustrade.  "  That  carrion  ?  You 
should " 

Her  hand  drawn  across  her  throat 
completed  the  sentence. 

The  tetrarch  shook  his  head.  There 
was  no  hurry.  Then,  too,  the  prophet 
was  useful.  He  reviled  Jerusalem,  and 
that  flattered  Galilee.  But  there  was 
another  reason,  which  he  kept  to  him- 
self, lohanan  affected  him  as  no  one 
had  done  before. 

He  feared  him,  chained  though  he  was, 
and  into  that  fear  something  akin  to 
admiration  entered.  In  his  heart  he 
wished  he  had  let  him  alone.  No,  there 
was  no  hurry.  As  he  assured  her  of  that 
the  prophet  looked  up. 
"  Jezebel ! " 

The  guests  approached.  Their  num- 
ber had  increased.  There  were  Greek 
merchants  from  Hippos  and  Sepphoris, 
Pharisees  from  Jericho,  and  Scribes  from 


40  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

Jerusalem.  Herodias  clapped  her  hands. 
A  negro,  naked  to  the  waist,  appeared. 

"Take  him  below." 

But  the  guests  surrounded  lohanan. 
The  Pharisees  recognized  him  at  once. 
He  was  the  terror  of  the  hierarchs. 

As  he  cried  out  at  Herodias  he  seemed 
as  though  he  would  rise  and  wrench  his 
bonds  and  mount  to  where  she  was.  His 
eyes  had  lost  their  pathos ;  they  blazed. 

"  Woe  unto  you  !  "  he  shouted,  "  and 
woe  unto  your  barren  bed  !  Though  you 
hid  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  in  the 
uttermost  depths  of  a  jungle,  the  stench 
of  your  incest  would  betray  you.  Woe 
unto  you,  I  say;  the  swine  will  turn 
from  you,  the  Eternal  will  rend  you,  and 
the  heart  of  hell  will  vomit  you  back  !  " 

Herodias  shook  with  anger.  She  was 
livid.  Murmurs  circulated  through  the 
increasing  throng. 

The  Pharisees  edged  nearer.  On  their 
foreheads  were  slips  of  vellum  on  which 
passages  of  the  Law  had  been  inscribed. 
About  their  left  arms  other  slips  ex- 
tended spiralwise  from  the  elbow  to  the 


MART  MAGDALEN.  41 

end  of  the  third  finger.  They  were  in 
white  ;  where  their  garments  had  become 
soiled,  the  spots  had  been  chalked. 

To  them  the  prophet  showed  his  teeth. 
"  And  woe  unto  you  too,  race  of  vipers, 
bladders  of  wind !  As  the  fire  devours 
the  stubble,  and  the  flame  consumes  the 
chaff,  so  your  root  will  be  rottenness 
and  your  seed  go  up  as  dust.  Fear  will 
engulf  you  like  a  torrent.  The  high 
peaks  will  be  broken,  the  mountains  will 
sever,  and  night  be  upon  all.  The  val- 
leys and  hills  will  be  strewn  with  your 
corpses,  the  rocks  will  run  with  your 
blood,  the  plain  will  drink  it,  and  the 
vultures  feast  on  your  flesh.  Woe  unto 
you  all,  I  say,  that  call  good  evil,  and 
evil  good ! " 

The  invective  continued.  It  enveloped 
the  world.  Everything  was  to  be  de- 
stroyed. Presently  it  subsided ;  the  voice 
of  the  prophet  sank  lower ;  his  eyes 
sought  the  sky,  the  pupils  dilated ;  and 
the  dream  of  his  nation,  the  triumphant 
future,  the  sanctification  of  the  faithful, 


42  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

the  magnificence  that  was  to  be,  poured 
rapturously  from  his  lips. 

"  The  whole  land  will  glow  with  glory. 
The  sky  will  be  a  rose  in  bloom.  The 
meadows  will  rejoice,  and  the  earth  will 
be  filled  with  men  and  maidens  singing 
and  kneeling  to  Thee,  Immanuel,  whom 
I  await" 

The  vision  would  have  expanded,  per- 
haps, but  the  chain  that  bound  him  was 
loosed,  sinewy  arms  were  dragging  him 
away.  As  he  went,  he  glared  up  again  at 
Herodias.  His  face  had  lost  its  beati- 
tude. 

"  You  will  be  stripped  of  your  purple, 
Jezebel ;  your  diadem  will  be  trodden 
under  foot.  The  pains  of  a  woman  in 
travail  will  be  as  joys  unto  yours.  There 
will  be  not  enough  stones  to  throw  at 
you,  and  the  abomination  of  your  lust 
will  bellow,  Accursed,  even  beyond  the 
tomb." 

The  anathema  fainted  in  the  distance. 
The  Scribes  consulted  between  their 
teeth.  By  the  Pharisees  Antipas  was 
blamed.  A  merchant  from  Hippos  did 


MART  MAGDALEN.  43 

not  understand,  and  the  Law  was  ex- 
plained. That  a  man  should  marry  his 
brother's  wife  was  a  duty,  only  in  this  in- 
stance it  had  not  occurred  to  the  brother 
to  die  beforehand.  Then,  again,  by  her 
first  husband  Herodias  had  a  child,  and 
in  that  was  the  abomination. 

The  merchant  did  not  wholly  grasp  the 
distinction,  but  he  nodded  as  though  he 
had. 

"There  was  a  child,  was  there?" 

A  captain  of  the  garrison  answered  : 
"  A  girl,  Salome." 

He  said  nothing  further,  but  the  mer- 
chant could  see  that  his  mouth  watered 
at  the  thought  of  her. 

The  crowd  had  become  very  dense. 
Suddenly  a  trumpet  blared.  At  the 
gate  was  Pontius  Pilate.  On  his  head 
was  a  high  and  dazzling  helmet.  His  tu- 
nic was  short,  open  at  the  neck.  His  legs 
were  bare.  He  was  shod  with  shoes  that 
left  the  toes  exposed.  From  his  cuirass 
a  gorgon's  head  had,  in  deference  to  local 
prejudice,  been  effaced  ;  in  its  stead  were 
scrolls  and  thunderbolts.  From  the 


44  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

belt  rows  of  straps,  embroidered  and 
fringed,  fell  nearly  to  the  knee.  He  held 
his  head  in  the  air.  His  features  were 
excellent,  and  his  beard  hung  in  rows  of 
short  overlapping  curls. 

Behind  him  was  his  body-guard.  Be- 
fore him  Antipas  stood,  welcoming  the 
Roman  in  Greek. 

In  the  sky  now  were  the  advancing 
steps  of  night ;  in  crevices  of  the  basalt 
the  leaves  of  the  baaras  weed  had  begun 
to  flicker.  It  was  time  for  the  festival  to 
begin ;  and,  preceding  the  guests,  Antipas 
passed  into  a  hall  beyond. 

It  was  oblong,  curved  at  the  ends,  and 
so  vast  that  the  roof  was  vague.  On  the 
walls  were  slabs  of  different  colors,  mar- 
ble spotted  like  the  skin  of  serpents,  and 
onyx  flecked  with  violet.  On  two  sides 
were  galleries  supported  by  columns  of 
sandstone.  A  third  gallery  formed  a 
semicircle.  Opposite,  at  the  further  end, 
on  a  dais,  was  the  table  of  the  tetrarch. 

Antipas  faced  the  assemblage.  At  his 
left  was  the  procurator,  at  his  right  the 
emir  of  Tadmor.  Curtains  were  looped 


MART  MAGDALEN.  45 

on  either  side.  Above  were  panels ;  they 
separated,  and  flowers  fell.  On  a  little  stool 
next  to  the  couch  on  which  the  emir  lay 
was  a  beautiful  boy  with  curly  hair. 
The  couch  of  the  procurator  was  covered 
with  a  dim  Babylonian  shawl.  That  of 
the  tetrarch  was  of  ivory  in  crusted  with 
gold.  All  three  were  cushioned. 

As  the  guests  entered  they  were  sprin- 
kled with  perfume.  Throughout  the 
length  of  the  hall  other  tables  extended, 
and  at  these  they  found  seats  and  food : 
Syrian  radishes,  melons  from  the  oases 
near  the  Oxus,  white  olives  from  Beth- 
any, honey  from  Capharnahum,  and  the 
little  onions  of  Ascalon.  There  were  can- 
delabra everywhere,  liquids  cooled  with 
snow,  cheeses  big  as  millstones,  chunks 
of  fat  in  wooden  bowls,  and  behind  the 
tables,  slaves  with  copper  platters.  On 
the  platters  were  quarters  of  red  beef, 
breams  swimming  in  grease,  and  sunbirds 
with  their  plumage  on.  In  the  semicir- 
cular gallery  musicians  played,  three 
notes,  constantly  repeated. 

The  tetrarch's  table  was  spread  with  a 


46  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

cloth  of  byssus  striped  with  Laconian 
green.  On  it  were  jars  of  murrha  filled 
with  balsam,  Sidonian  goblets  of  colored 
glass,  jasper  amphorae,  and  water-melons 
from  Egypt.  Before  the  procurator  was 
a  dish  of  oysters,  lampreys,  and  boned 
barbels,  mixed  well  together,  flavored 
with  cinnamon  and  assafoetida  ;  mashed 
grasshoppers  baked  in  saffron ;  and  a 
roasted  boar,  the  legs  curled  inward,  the 
eyes  half-closed.  The  emir  ate  abun- 
dantly of  heron's  eggs  whipped  with  wine 
into  an  amber  foam.  When  his  fingers 
were  soiled,  he  wiped  them  in  the 
curls  of  the  beautiful  boy  who  sat  near 
by. 

The  smell  of  food  filled  the  hall, 
mounted  to  the  roof  The  atmosphere 
was  that  of  a  bath,  and  the  wines  were 
heady.  Already  discussions  had  arisen. 
A  mountaineer  and  a  Galilean  skiffsman 
had  been  dragged  away,  the  one  sense- 
less, the  other  with  features  indistin- 
guishable and  masked  in  blood.  It  was 
a  great  festival,  and  the  tetrarch  was  en- 
tertaining, as  only  he  could,  his  friends, 


MART  MAGDALEN.  47 

his  enemies,  and  whoever  chanced  that 
way. 

"  As  a  child  he  rubbed  his  body  with 
the  leaves  of  the  cnyza,  which  is  a  preser- 
vative of  chastity."  It  was  a  little  man 
with  restless  eyes  and  a  very  long  white 
beard  detailing  the  virtues  of  lohanan. 
"  But,"  he  added,  "  he  must  have  found 
cold  water  better." 

His  neighbors  laughed.  One  pounded 
the  table. 

"  Jeshua — "  he  began,  but  everyone  was 
talking  at  once. 

"  Jeshua — "  he  continued  ;  yet,  as  no 
one  would  listen,  he  turned  to  a  passing 
eunuch  and  caught  him  by  the  arm — 
"  Jeshua  does  more  ;  he  works  miracles, 
and  not  with  the  cnyza  either." 

The  eunuch  eluded  him  and  escaped. 
However,  he  would  not  be  balked ;  he 
stood  up  and,  through  the  din,  he  shouted 
at  the  little  man  : 

"  Baba  Barbulah,  I  tell  you  he  is  the 
Messiah ! " 

His  voice  was  so  loud  it  dominated  the 
hubbub,  and  suddenly  the  hubbub  ceased. 


48  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

From  the  dais  Pontius  Pilate  listened 
indifferently.  Antipas  held  his  hands 
behind  his  ears  that  he  might  hear  the 
better.  The  emir  paid  no  attention  at 
all.  On  his  head  was  a  conical  turban ; 
about  it  were  loops  of  sapphire  and  coils 
of  pearl.  He  wore  a  vest  with  scant 
sleeves  that  reached  to  the  knuckles,  and 
trousers  that  overhung  the  instep  and  fell 
in  wide  wrinkles  on  his  feet ;  both  were 
of  leopard-skin.  Over  the  vest  was  a 
sleeveless  tunic,  clasped  at  the  shoulders 
and  girt  at  the  waist.  His  hair  was  long, 
plentifully  oiled ;  his  beard  was  bushy, 
blue-black,  and  specked  with  silver. 

Mary  had  approached.  From  the  less- 
ening waist  to  the  slender  feet  her  dress 
opened  at  either  side.  Beneath  was  a 
chemise  of  transparent  Bactrianian  tis- 
sue. From  girdle  to  armpits  were  little 
clasps  ;  on  her  ankles,  bands  ;  and  above 
the  elbow,  on  her  bare  white  arm,  two 
circlets  of  emeralds  from  the  mines  of 
Djebel  Zabur. 

The  emir  spoke  to  her.  She  listened 
with  a  glimpse  of  the  most  beautiful 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  49 

teeth  in  the  world.  He  put  out  a  hand 
tentatively  and  touched  her  :  the  tissue  of 
her  garment  crackled  and  emitted  sparks. 
He  raised  a  goblet  to  her.  The  wine  it 
held  was  yellower  than  the  marigold. 
She  brushed  it  with  her  lips  ;  he  drank  it 
off,  then,  refreshed,  he  looked  her  up  and 
down. 

In  one  hand  she  held  a  cup  of  horn, 
narrower  at  the  top  than  at  the  end  ;  in 
it  were  dice  made  of  the  knee-joints  of 
gazelles,  and  these  she  rattled  in  his 
beard. 

"  That  beautiful  Sultan,  will  he  play  ?  " 

With  an  ochre-tipped  finger  she  pointed 
at  the  turban  on  his  head.  The  eyes  of 
the  emir  vacillated.  He  undid  a  string 
of  gems  and  placed  them  on  the  table's 
edge.  Mary  unclasped  a  coil  of  emer- 
alds and  rattled  the  dice  again.  She 
held  the  cup  high  up,  then  spilled  the 
contents  out. 

"  Ashtaroth !  "  the  emir  cried.  He  had 
won. 

Mary  leaned  forward,  fawned  upon  his 
breast,  and  gazed  into  his  face.  Her 


50  MART  MAGDALEN. 

breath  had  the  fragrance  of  his  own 
oasis,  her  lips  were  moist  as  the  pome- 
granate's pulp,  her  teeth  as  keen  as  his 
own  desire. 

"No,  beautiful  Sultan,  it  is  I."  With 
the  back  of  her  hand  she  disturbed  the 
dice.  "  I  am  Ashtaroth,  am  I  not  ?  " 

Questioningly  the  emir  explored  the 
unfathomable  eyes  that  gazed  into  his. 

On  their  surface  floated  an  acquies- 
cence to  the  tacit  offer  of  his  own.  Then 
he  nodded,  and  Mary  turned  and  gath- 
ered the  jewels  from  the  cloth  of  byssus 
where  they  lay. 

"  I  tell  you  he  is  the  Messiah  1 "  It 
was  the  angry  disputant  shouting  at  the 
little  man. 

"  Who  is  ?  What  are  you  talking 
about  ? " 

Though  the  hubbub  had  ceased, 
throughout  the  hall  were  the  mutterings 
of  dogs  disturbed. 

"  Jeshua,"  the  disputant  answered ; 
"  Jeshua  the  Nazarene." 

A  Pharisee,  very  vexed,  his  bonnet 
tottering,  gnashed  back  :  "  The  Messiah 


MART  MAGADLEN.  61 

will  uphold  the  law;  this  Nazarene  at- 
tacks it." 

A  Scribe  interrupted  :  "  Many  things 
are  to  distinguish  his  advent.  The  light 
of  the  sun  will  be  increased  a  hundred- 
fold, the  orchards  will  bear  fruit  a  thou- 
sand times  more  abundantly.  Death  will 
be  forgotten,  joy  will  be  universal,  Elijah 
will  return." 

"But  he  has!" 

Antipas  started.  The  Scribe  trembled 
with  rage.  But  the  throng  had  caught 
the  name  of  Elijah,  and  knew  to  whom 
the  disputant  referred — a  man  in  tattered 
furs  whom  a  few  hours  before  they  had 
seen  dragged  away  by  a  negro  naked  to 
the  waist,  and  some  one  shouted : 

"  lohanan  is  Elijah." 

Baba  Barbulah  stood  up  and  turned  to 
whence  the  voice  had  come  : 

"  In  the  footprints  of  the  Anointed  im- 
pudence shall  increase,  and  the  face  of 
the  generation  shall  be  as  the  face  of  a 
dog.  It  may  be,"  he  added,  significantly 
— "it  may  be  that  you  speak  the  truth." 

The  sarcasm  was  lost.     The  musicians 


52  MART  MAGDALEN. 

in  the  gallery,  who  had  been  playing 
on  flute  and  timbrel,  began  now  on  the 
psalteron  and  the  native  sambuca.  Be- 
hind was  a  row  of  lute-players  ;  but  most 
in  view  was  a  trignon,  an  immense  Egyp- 
tian harp,  at  which  with  nimble  fingers  a 
fair  girl  plucked. 

In  the  shadow  Herodias  leaned.  At  a 
signal  from  her  the  musicians  attacked 
the  prelude  of  a  Syrian  dance,  and  in  the 
midst  of  the  assemblage  a  figure  veiled 
from  head  to  foot  suddenly  appeared. 
For  a  moment  it  stood  very  still ;  then 
the  veil  fell  of  itself,  and  from  the  gar- 
rison a  shout  went  up : 

"Salome!  Salome!" 

Her  hair,  after  an  archaic  Chanaanite 
fashion,  was  arranged  in  the  form  of  a 
tower.  Her  high  bosom  was  wound 
about  with  protecting  bands.  Her  waist 
was  bare.  She  wore  long  pink  drawers 
of  silk,  and  for  girdle  she  had  the  blue 
buds  of  the  lotus,  which  are  symbols  of 
virginity.  She  was  young  and  exquisitely 
formed.  In  her  face  you  read  strange 
records,  and  on  her  lips  were  promises  as 


MART  MAGDALEN.  63 

rare.  Her  eyes  were  tortoise-shell,  her 
hair  was  black  as  guilt. 

The  prelude  had  ceased,  the  movement 
quickened.  With  a  gesture  of  abandon- 
ment the  girl  threw  her  head  back,  and, 
her  arms  extended,  she  fluttered  like  a 
butterfly  on  a  rose.  She  ran  forward. 
The  sambuca  rang  quicker,  the  harp 
quicker  yet.  She  threw  herself  to  one 
side,  then  to  the  other,  her  hips  swaying 
as  she  moved.  The  buds  at  her  girdle 
fell  one  by  one ;  she  was  dancing  on 
flowers,  her  hips  still  swaying,  her  waist 
advancing  and  retreating  to  the  shiver  of 
the  harp.  She  was  elusive  as  dream, 
subtle  as  love ;  she  intoxicated  and  en- 
tranced ;  and  finally,  as  she  threw  herself 
on  her  hands,  her  feet,  first  in  the  air 
and  then  slowly  descending,  touched  the 
ground,  while  her  body  straightened  like 
a  reed,  there  was  a  long  growl  of  unsatis- 
fied content. 

She  was  kneeling  now  before  the  dais. 
Pilate  compared  her  to  Bathylle,  a  mime 
whom  he  had  applauded  at  Borne.  The 
tetrarch  was  purple ;  he  gnawed  his 


54  MARY  MAGDALEN, 

under  lip.  For  the  moment  he  forgot 
everything  he  should  have  remembered 
—the  presence  of  his  guests,  the  stains 
of  his  household,  his  wife  even,  whose 
daughter  this  girl  was — and  in  a  gust  of 
passion  he  half  rose  from  his  couch. 

"Come  to  me,"  he  cried.  "But  come 
to  me,  and  ask  whatever  you  will." 

Salome  hesitated  and  pouted,  the  point 
of  her  tongue  protruding  between  her 
lips. 

"  Come  to  me,"  he  pleaded ;  "  you  shall 
have  slaves  and  palaces  and  cities ;  you 
shall  have  hills  and  intervales.  I  will 
give  you  anything;  half  my  kingdom  if 
you  wish." 

There  was  a  tinkle  of  feet ;  the  girl 
had  gone.  In  a  moment  she  returned, 
and  balancing  herself  on  one  foot,  she 
lisped  very  sweetly :  "  I  should  like  by 
and  by  to  have  you  give  me  the  head  of 
lohanan — "  she  looked  about;  in  the 
distance  a  eunuch  was  passing,  a  dish  in 
his  hand,  and  she  added,  "  on  a  platter." 

Antipas  jumped  as  though  a  hound 
under  the  table  had  bitten  him  on  the 


MART  MAGDALEN.  65 

leg.  He  turned  to  the  procurator,  who 
regarded  him  indifferently,  and  to  the 
emir,  who  was  toying  with  Mary's  agate- 
nailed  hand.  He  had  given  his  word, 
however  ;  the  people  had  heard.  About 
his  ears  the  perspiration  started ;  from 
purple  he  had  grown  very  gray. 

Salome  still  stood,  balancing  herself 
on  one  foot,  the  point  of  her  tongue  just 
visible,  while  from  the  gallery  beyond,  in 
whose  shadows  he  divined  the  instigating 
presence  of  Herodias,  came  the  grave 
music  of  an  Hebraic  hymn. 

"  So  be  it,"  he  groaned. 

The  order  was  given,  and  a  tear 
trickled  down  through  the  paint  and 
furrows  of  his  cheek.  On  the  hall  a 
silence  had  descended.  The  guests  were 
waiting,  and  the  throb  of  the  harp  accen- 
tuated the  suspense.  Presently  there 
was  the  clatter  of  men-at-arms,  and  a 
negro,  naked  to  the  waist,  appeared,  an 
axe  in  one  hand,  the  head  of  the  prophet 
in  the  other. 

He  presented  it  deferentially  to  An- 
tipas,  who  motioned  it  away,  his  face 


66  MART  MAGDALEN. 

averted.  Salome  smiled.  She  took  it, 
and  then,  while  she  resumed  her  veil,  she 
put  it  down  before  the  emir,  who  eyed  it 
with  the  air  of  one  that  has  seen  many 
another  object  such  as  that. 

But  in  a  moment  the  veil  was  adjusted, 
and  with  the  trophy  the  girl  disappeared. 

The  harp  meanwhile  had  ceased  to 
sob,  the  guests  were  departing ;  already 
the  procurator  had  gone.  The  emir 
looked  about  for  Mary,  but  she  also  had 
departed ;  and,  with  the  expectation,  per- 
haps, of  finding  her  without,  he  too  got 
up  and  left  the  hall. 

Antipas  was  alone.  Through  the  lat- 
tice at  his  side  he  could  see  the  baaras 
in  the  basalt  emitting  its  firefly  sparks  of 
flame.  From  an  adjacent  corridor  came 
the  discreet  click-clack  of  a  sandal,  and 
in  a  moment  the  head  of  the  prophet  was 
placed  on  the  table  at  which  he  lay.  The 
tetrarch  leaned  over  and  gazed  into  the 
unclosed  eyes.  They  were  haggard  and 
dilated,  and  they  seemed  to  curse. 

He  put  his  hand  to  his  face  and  tried 
to  think — to  forget  rather,  and  not  to  re- 


MART  MAGDALEN.  67 

member ;  but  his  ears  were  charged  with 
rustlings  that  extended  indefinitely  and 
lost  themselves  in  the  future ;  his  mind 
peopled  itself  with  phantoms  of  the  pasi 
Perhaps  he  dozed  a  little.  When  he 
looked  up  again  the  head  was  no  longer 
there,  and  he  told  himself  that  Herodias 
had  thrown  it  to  the  swine. 


CHAPTER  IIL 


III. 

IN  the  distance  the  white  and  yellow 
limestone  of  the  mountains  rose.  Near 
by  was  a  laughter  of  flowers,  a  tumult  of 
green.  Just  beyond,  in  a  border  of  sedge 
and  rushes,  a  lake  lay,  a  mirror  to  the 
sky.  In  the  background  were  the  blue 
and  white  terraces  of  Magdala,  and  about 
a  speaker  were  clustered  a  handful  of 
people,  a  group  of  laborers  and  of  fisher- 
men. 

He  vas  dressed  as  a  rabbi,  but  he 
looked  like  a  seer.  In  his  face  was  the 
youth  of  the  world,  in  his  eyes  the  infi- 
nite. As  he  spoke,  his  words  thrilled  and 
his  presence  allured.  "  Repent,"  he  was 
saying;  "the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at 
hand."  And  as  the  resplendent  prophecy 
continued,  you  would  have  said  that  a 
bird  in  his  heart  had  burst  into  song. 

A  little  to  one  side,  in  an  attitude  of 

61 


62  MART  MAGDALEN. 

amused  contempt,  a  few  of  the  tetrarch's 
courtiers  stood ;  they  were  dressed  in  the 
Roman  fashion,  and  one,  Pandera,  a  cap- 
tain of  the  guard,  wore  a  cuirass  that  glit- 
tered as  he  laughed.  He  was  young  and 
very  handsome.  He  had  white  teeth, 
red  lips,  a  fair  skin,  a  dark  beard,  and, 
as  he  happened  to  be  stationed  in  the 
provinces,  an  acquired  sneer.  Dear  old 
Rome,  how  vague  it  was !  And  as  he  jest- 
ed with  his  comrades  he  thought  of  its 
delights,  and  wished  himself  either  back 
again  in  the  haunts  he  loved,  or  else,  if 
he  must  be  separated  from  them,  then, 
instead  of  vegetating  in  a  tiresome  te- 
trarchy,  he  felt  that  it  would  be  pleasant 
to  be  far  off  somewhere,  where  the  un- 
couth Britons  were,  a  land  which  it  took 
a  year  of  adventures  to  reach ;  on  the 
banks  of  the  Betis,  whence  the  girls  came 
that  charmed  the  lupanars ;  in  Numidia, 
where  the  hunting  was  good  ;  or  in  Thrace, 
where  there  was  blood  in  plenty — any- 
where, in  fact,  save  on  the  borders  of  the 
beautiful  lake  where  he  happened  to  be. 
It  was  but  the  restlessness  of  youth, 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  63 

perhaps,  that  disturbed  him  so,  for  in 
Galilee  there  were  oafs  as  awkward  as 
any  that  Britannia  could  show ;  there  was 
game  in  abundance ;  blood,  too,  was  not 
as  infrequent  as  it  might  have  been ;  and 
as  for  women,  there  at  his  side  stood  one 
as  appetizing  as  Home,  Spain  even,  had 
produced.  He  turned  to  her  now,  and 
plucked  at  his  dark  beard  and  showed 
his  white  teeth  ;  he  had  caught  a  phrase 
of  the  rabbi  in  which  the  latter  had  men- 
tioned the  kingdoms  of  the  earth,  and  the 
phrase  amused  him. 

"I  like  that,"  he  said.  "What  does 
he  know  about  the  kingdoms  of  the 
earth  ?  Mary,  I  wager  what  you  will 
that  he  has  never  been  two  leagues  from 
where  he  stands.  Let's  ask  and  see." 

But  Mary  did  not  seem  to  hear.  She 
was  engrossed  in  the  rabbi,  and  Pandera 
had  to  tug  at  her  sleeve  before  she  con- 
sented to  return  to  a  life  in  which  he 
seemingly  had  a  part. 

"What  do  you  say?  "  he  asked. 

Mary  shook  her  head.  She  had  the 
air  of  one  whose  mind  is  elsewhere.  Into 


64  MART  MAGDALEN. 

her  face  a  vacancy  had  come ;  she  seemed 
incapable  of  reply ;  and  as  the  guardsman 
scrutinized  her  it  occurred  to  him  that 
she  might  be  on  the  point  of  having  an 
attack  of  that  catalepsy  to  which  he  knew 
her  to  be  subject.  But  immediately  she 
reassured  him. 

"  Come,  let  us  go." 

And,  the  guardsman  at  her  side,  the 
others  in  her  train,  she  ascended  the  little 
hill  on  which  her  castle  was,  and  where 
the  midday  meal  awaited. 

It  was  a  charming  residence.  Built 
quadrangularwise,  the  court  held  a  foun- 
tain which  was  serviceable  to  those  that 
wished  to  bathe.  The  roof  was  a  gar- 
den. The  interior  fagade  was  of  teak 
wood,  carved  and  colored ;  the  frontal  was 
of  stone.  Seen  from  the  exterior  it  looked 
the  fortress  of  some  umbrageous  prince, 
but  in  the  courtyard  reigned  the  seduc- 
tion of  a  woman  in  love.  From  without 
it  menaced,  within  it  soothed. 

Her  title  to  it  was  a  matter  of  doubi 
According  to  Pandera,  who  at  the  mess- 
table  at  Tiberias  had  boasted  his  pos- 


MART  MAGDALEN.  65 

session  of  her  confidence,  it  was  a  heri- 
tage from  her  father.  Others  declared 
that  it  had  been  given  her  by  her  earliest 
lover,  an  old  man  who  since  had  passed 
away.  Yet,  after  all,  no  one  cared.  She 
kept  open  house ;  the  tetrarch  held  her 
in  high  esteem ;  she  was  attached  to  the 
person  of  the  tetrarch's  wife ;  only  a  little 
before,  the  emir  of  Tadmor  had  made  a 
circuitous  journey  to  visit  her ;  Vitellius, 
the  governor  of  the  province,  had  stopped 
time  and  again  beneath  her  roof ;  and — 
and  here  was  the  point — to  see  her  was 
to  acquire  a  new  conception  of  beauty. 
Of  hitman  flowers  she  was  the  most  fair. 
Yet  now,  during  the  meal  that  followed, 
Mary,  the  toast  of  the  tetrarchy,  she 
whose  wit  and  brilliance  had  been  echoed 
even  in  Eome,  wrapped  herself  in  a  man- 
tle of  silence.  The  guardsman  jested  in 
vain.  To  the  others  she  paid  as  much 
attention  as  the  sun  does  to  a  torch ;  and 
when  at  last  Pandera,  annoyed,  perhaps, 
at  her  disregard  of  a  quip  of  his,  at- 
tempted to  whisper  in  her  ear,  she  left  the 
room. 


66  MART  MAGDALEN. 

The  nausea  of  the  hour  may  have  af- 
fected her,  for  presently,  as  she  threw  her- 
self on  her  great  couch,  her  thoughts  for- 
sook the  present  and  went  back  into  the 
past,  her  childhood  returned,  and  faces 
that  she  had  loved  reappeared  and  smiled. 
Her  father,  for  instance,  Theudas,  who 
had  been  satrap  of  Syria,  and  her  moth- 
er, Eucharia,  a  descendant  of  former 
kings. 

But  of  these  her  memories  were  slight 
— they  had  died  when  she  was  still  very 
young — and  in  their  place  came  her  sister, 
Martha,  kind  of  heart  and  quick  of  tem- 
per, obdurate,  indulgent,  and  continually 
perplexed;  Simon,  Martha's  husband,  a 
Libyan,  born  in  Gyrene,  called  by  many 
the  Leper  because  of  a  former  whiteness  of 
his  skin,  a  whiteness  which  had  long  since 
vanished,  for  he  was  brown  as  a  date ; 
Eleazer,  her  brother,  younger  than  her- 
self, a  delicate  boy  with  blue  pathetic 
eyes ;  and  with  them  came  the  delight  of 
Bethany,  that  lovely  village  on  the  ori- 
ental slope  of  the  Mount  of  Olives, 
where  the  rich  of  Jerusalem  had  their 


MART  MAGDALEN.  67 

villas,  and  where  her  girlhood  had  been 
passed. 

From  the  lattice  at  which  she  used  to 
sit  she  could  see  the  wide  white  road 
begin  its  descent  to  the  Jordan,  a  stretch 
of  almond  trees  and  oleanders ;  and  just 
beyond,  in  a  woody  hollow,  a  little  house 
in  which  Sephorah  lived — a  woman  who 
came  from  no  one  knew  where,  and  to 
whom  Martha  had  forbidden  her  to  speak. 

She  could  see  her  still,  a  gaunt,  gray 
creature,  with  projecting  cheek-bones,  a 
skin  of  brick,  and  a  low,  insinuating 
voice.  The  fascination  which  she  had  ex- 
ercised over  her  partook  both  of  wonder 
and  of  fear,  for  it  was  rumored  that  she 
was  a  sorceress,  and  as  old  as  the  world. 
To  Mary,  who  was  then  barely  nubile, 
and  inquisitive  as  only  fanciful  children 
are,  she  manifested  a  great  affection,  en- 
ticing her  to  her  dwelling  with  little 
cakes  that  were  sweet  to  the  tooth  and 
fabulous  tales  that  stirred  the  heart :  the 
story  of  Stratonice  and  Combabus,  for 
instance,  which  Mary  did  not  in  the  least 


68  MART  MAGDALEN. 

understand,  but  which  seemed  to  her  in- 
tensely sad. 

"  And  then  what  ?  "  she  would  ask  when 
the  tale  was  done  ;  and  the  woman  would 
tell  her  of  Ninus  and  Semiramis,  of  Sen- 
nachereb,  of  Sardanapalus,  Belsarazzur, 
of  Dagon,  the  fish-god  of  Philistia,  by 
whom  Goliath  swore  and  in  whose  tem- 
ple Samson  died,  or  of  Sargon,  who,  placed 
by  his  mother  in  an  ark  of  rushes,  was 
set  adrift  in  the  Euphrates,  yet,  happily 
discovered  by  a  water-carrier,  afterwards 
became  a  leader  of  men. 

"Why,  that  was  Moses!"  the  child 
would  exclaim. 

"No,  no,"  the  woman  invariably  an- 
swered, "  it  was  Sargon." 

But  that  which  pleasured  Mary  more 
highly  even  than  these  tales  were  the 
legends  of  Hither  Asia,  the  wonderlands 
of  Babylon,  and  particularly  the  story  of 
the  creation,  for  always  the  human  mind 
has  wished  to  read  the  book  of  God. 

"  Where  did  they  say  the  world  came 
from  ?  "  she  would  ask. 

And  Sephorah,  drawing  a  long  breath, 


MART  MAGDALEN.  69 

would  answer  :  "  Once  all  was  darkness 
and  water.  In  this  chaos  lived  strange 
animals,  and  men  with  two  wings,  and 
others  with  four  wings  and  two  faces. 
Some  had  the  thighs  of  goats,  some  had 
horns,  and  some  had  horses'  feet,  or  were 
formed  behind  like  a  horse  and  in  front 
like  a  man ;  there  were  bulls  with  human 
faces,  and  men  with  the  heads  of  dogs, 
and  other  animals  of  human  shape  with 
fins  like  fishes,  and  fishes  like  sirens,  and 
dragons,  and  creeping  things,  and  ser- 
pents, and  fierce  creatures,  the  images  of 
which  are  preserved  in  the  temple  of  Bel. 

"  Over  all  these  ruled  the  great  mother, 
Um  Uruk.  But  Bel,  whom  your  people 
call  Baal,  divided  the  darkness  and  clove 
the  woman  asunder.  Of  one  part  he 
made  the  earth,  and  of  the  other  the  sun, 
the  moon,  the  planets.  He  drew  off  the 
water,  apportioned  it  to  the  land,  and 
prepared  and  arranged  the  world.  The 
creatures  on  it  could  not  endure  the  light 
of  day  and  became  extinct. 

"  Now  when  Bel  saw  the  land  fruitful 
yet  uninhabited,  he  cut  off  his  head  and 


70  MART  MAGDALEN. 

made  one  of  the  gods  mingle  the  blood 
which  flowed  from  it  with  earth  and  form 
therewith  men  and  animals  that  could 
endure  the  sun.  Presently  Chaldaea  was 
plentifully  populated,  but  the  inhabitants 
lived  like  animals,  without  order  or  rule. 
Then  there  appeared  to  them  from  the 
sea  a  monster  of  the  name  of  Yan.  Its 
body  was  that  of  a  fish,  but  under  its 
head  another  head  was  attached,  and  on 
its  fins  were  feet,  and  its  voice  was  that 
of  a  man.  Its  image  is  still  preserved. 
It  came  at  morning,  passed  the  day,  and 
taught  language  and  science,  the  harvest- 
ing of  seeds  and  of  fruits,  the  rules  for 
the  boundaries  of  land,  the  mode  of 
building  cities  and  temples,  arts  and 
writing  and  all  that  pertains  to  civilized 
life,  and  for  four  hundred  and  thirty-two 
thousand  years  the  world  went  very  well. 
"Then  in  a  dream  Bel  revealed  to 
Xisuthrus  that  there  would  be  a  great 
storm,  and  men  would  be  destroyed.  He 
bade  him  bury  in  Sepharvaim,  the  city  of 
the  sun,  all  the  ancient,  mediaeval,  and 
modern  records,  and  build  a  ship  and 


MART  MAGDALEN.  71 

embark  in  it  with  his  kindred  and  his 
nearest  friends.  He  was  also  to  take 
food  and  drink  into  the  ship,  and  pairs 
of  all  creatures  winged  and  four-footed. 

"Xisuthrus  did  as  he  was  bidden,  and 
from  the  ends  of  heaven  the  storm  began 
to  blow.  Bin  thundered  ;  Nebo,  the  Ee- 
vealer,  came  forth ;  Nergal,  the  Destroy- 
er, overthrew;  and  Adar,  the  Sublime, 
swept  in  his  brightness  across  the  earth. 
The  storm  devoured  the  nations,  it  lapped 
the  sky,  turned  the  land  into  an  ocean, 
and  destroyed  everything  that  lived.  Even 
the  gods  were  afraid.  They  sought  refuge 
in  the  heaven  of  Anu,  sovereign  of  the 
upper  realms.  As  hounds  draw  in  their 
tails,  they  seated  themselves  on  their 
thrones,  and  to  them  Mylitta,  the  great 
goddess,  spake :  '  The  world  has  turned 
from  me,  and  ruin  I  have  proclaimed.' 
She  wept,  and  the  gods  on  their  thrones 
wept  with  her. 

"  On  the  seventh  day  Xisuthrus  per- 
ceived that  the  storm  had  abated  and 
that  the  sea  had  begun  to  fall.  He  sent 
out  a  dove,  it  returned ;  next,  a  swallow, 


72  MART  MAGDALEN. 

which  also  returned,  but  with  mud  on  its 
feet ;  and  again,  a  raven,  which  saw  the 
corpses  in  the  water  and  ate  them,  and 
returned  no  more.  Then  the  boat  was 
stayed  and  settled  upon  Mount  Nasir. 
Xisuthrus  went  out  and  worshipped  the 
recovered  earth.  When  his  companions 
went  in  search  of  him  he  had  disappeared, 
but  his  voice  called  to  them  saying  that 
for  his  piety  he  had  been  carried  away ; 
that  he  was  dwelling  among  the  gods  ; 
and  that  they  were  to  return  to  Sephar- 
vaim  and  dig  up  the  books  and  give  them 
to  mankind.  Which  they  did,  and  erected 
many  cities  and  temples,  and  rebuilt 
Babylon  and  Mylitta's  shrine." 

"  It  is  simpler  in  Genesis,"  Mary  said, 
the  first  time  she  heard  this  marvellous 
tale.  For  to  her,  as  to  Martha  and  Elea- 
zer,  the  khazzan,  the  teacher  of  the  syn- 
agogue, had  read  from  the  great  square 
letters  in  which  the  Pentateuch  was  writ- 
ten another  account  of  the  commingling 
of  Chaos  and  of  Light. 

At  the  mention  of  the  sacred  canon, 
Sephorah  would  smile  with  that  indul- 


MAST  MAGDALEN.  73 

gence  which  wisdom  brings,  and  smooth 
her  scanty  plaits,  and  draw  the  back  of 
her  hand  across  her  mouth. 

"Burned  on  tiles  in  the  land  of  the 
magi  are  the  records  of  a  million  years. 
In  the  unpolluted  tombs  of  Osorapi  the 
history  of  life  and  of  time  is  written  on 
the  cerements  of  kings.  Where  the  bells 
ring  at  the  neck  of  the  camels  of  Iran 
is  a  stretch  of  columns  on  which  are  in- 
scribed the  words  of  those  that  lived  in 
Paradise.  On  a  wall  of  the  temple  of 
Bel  are  the  chronicles  of  creation  ;  in  the 
palace  of  Assurbanipal,  the  narrative  of 
the  flood.  It  is  from  these  lands  and 
monuments  the  Thorah  comes ;  its  verses 
are  made  of  their  memories ;  it  gathered 
whatever  it  found,  and  overlooked  the 
essential,  immortal  life." 

And  Sephorah  added  in  a  whisper, 
"  For  we  are  descended  from  gods,  and 
immortal  as  they." 

The  khazzan  had  disclosed  to  Mary 
no  such  prospect  as  that.  To  him  as  to 
all  orthodox  expounders  of  the  Law  man 
was  essentially  evanescent ;  he  lived  his 


74  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

little  day  and  disappeared  forever.  God 
alone  was  immortal,  and  an  immortal  be- 
ing would  be  God.  The  contrary  beliefs 
of  the  Egyptians  and  the  Aryans  were  to 
them  abominations,  and  the  spiritualistic 
doctrine  inaugurated  by  Juda  Macca- 
baeus  and  accepted  by  the  Pharisees,  an 
impiety.  The  Pentateuch  had  not  a  word 
on  the  subject.  Moses  had  expressly  de- 
clared that  secret  things  belong  to  the 
Lord,  and  only  visible  things  to  man. 
The  prophets  had  indeed  foretold  a  ter- 
restrial immortality,  but  that  immortality 
was  the  immortality  of  a  nation ;  and  the 
realization  of  their  prophecy  the  entire 
people  awaited.  Apart  from  that  there 
was  only  Sheol,  a  sombre  region  of  the 
under-earth,  to  which  the  dead  descended, 
and  there  remained  without  conscious- 
ness, abandoned  by  God. 

"  Immortal !  "  Mary, with  great  wonder- 
ing eyes,  would  echo.  "  Immortal !  " 

"  Yes ;  but  to  become  so,"  Sephorah 
replied,  "you  must  worship  at  another 
shrine." 

"Where  is  it?" 


MART  MAGDALEN.  75 

Sephorah  answered  evasively.  Mary 
would  find  it  in  time — when  the  spring 
came,  perhaps ;  and  meanwhile  she  had 
a  word  or  two  to  say  of  Baal  to  such  ef- 
fect even  that  Mary  questioned  the  khaz- 
zan. 

"  However  great  the  god  of  the  Gen- 
tiles has  been  imagined,"  the  khazzan 
announced,  "  he  is  bounded  by  the  earth 
and  the  sky.  His  feet  may  touch  the 
one,  his  head  the  other,  but  of  nature  he 
is  a  part,  and,  to  the  Eternal,  nature  is  not 
even  a  garment,  it  is  a  substance  He 
made,  and  which  He  can  remould  at  wilL 
It  is  not  in  nature,  it  is  in  light,  He  is  : 
in  the  burning  bush  in  which  He  revealed 
Himself ;  in  the  stake  at  which  Isaac 
would  have  died ;  in  the  lightning  in  which 
the  Law  was  declared,  the  column  of  fire, 
the  flame  of  the  sacrifices,  and  the  gleam- 
ing throne  in  which  Isaiah  saw  Him  sit — 
it  is  there  that  He  is,  and  His  shadow  is 
the  sun." 

Of  this  Mary  repeated  the  substance 
to  her  friend,  and  Sephorah  mused. 

"  No,"  she  said  at  last — "  no,  he  is  not 


76  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

in  light,  but  in  the  desert  where  nature  is 
absent,  and  where  the  world  has  ceased 
to  be.  The  threats  of  a  land  that  never 
smiled  are  reflected  in  his  face.  The 
sight  of  him  is  death.  No,  Baal  is  the 
sun-god.  His  eyes  fecundate." 

And  during  the  succeeding  months 
Sephorah  entertained  Mary  with  Assyr- 
ian annals  and  Egyptian  lore.  She  told 
her  more  of  Baal,  whose  temple  was  in 
Babylon,  and  of  Baaltis,  who  reigned  at 
Ascalon.  She  told  her  of  the  women  who 
wept  for  Tammuz,  and  explained  the  rea- 
son of  their  tears.  She  told  her  of  the 
union  of  Ptah,  the  unbegotten  begetter 
of  the  first  beginning,  and  of  Neith, 
mother  of  the  sun ;  of  the  holy  incest  of 
Isis  and  Osiris ;  and  of  Luz,  called  by  the 
patriarchs  Bethel,  the  House  of  God,  the 
foothold  of  a  straight  stairway  which 
messengers  ceaselessly  ascended  and  de- 
scended, and  at  whose  summit  the  Elo- 
him  sat. 

She  told  her  of  these  things,  of  others 
as  well ;  and  now  and  then  in  the  telling 
of  them  a  fat  little  man  with  beady  eyes 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  77 

would  wander  in,  the  smell  of  garlic 
about  Mm,  and  stare  at  Mary's  lips.  His 
name  was  Pappus  ;  by  Sephorah  he  was 
treated  with  great  respect,  and  Mary 
learned  that  he  was  rich  and  knew  that 
Sepliorah  was  poor. 

When  the  Passover  had  come  and  gone, 
Sephorah  detected  that  Mary  had  ceased 
to  be  a  child ;  and  of  the  gods  and  god- 
desses with  whose  adventures  she  was 
wont  to  entertain  her,  gradually  she  con- 
fined herself  to  Mylitta ;  and  in  describing 
the  wonderlands  which  she  knew  so  well, 
she  spoke  now  only  of  Babylon,  where 
the  great  tower  was,  and  the  gardens  that 
hung  in  the  air. 

It  was  all  very  marvellous  and  beauti- 
ful, and  Sephorah  described  it  in  fitting 
terms.  There  was  the  Temple  of  the  Sev- 
en Spheres,  where  the  priests  offered  in- 
cense to  the  Houses  of  the  Planets,  to  the 
whole  host  of  heaven,  and  to  Bel,  Lord 
of  the  Sky.  There  was  the  Home  of  the 
Height,  a  sheer  flight  of  solid  masonry 
extending  vertiginously,  and  surmounted 
by  turrets  of  copper  capped  with  gold. 


78  MART  MAGDALEN. 

In  its  utmost  pinnacle  were  a  sanctuary 
and  a  dazzling  couch.  There  the  priests 
said  that  sometimes  Bel  came  and  rested. 
For  the  truth  of  that  statement,  however, 
Sephorah  declined  to  vouch.  She  had 
never  seen  him  ;  but  the  hanging  gardens 
she  had  seen,  long  before  they  were  de- 
molished. She  had  walked  in  them,  and 
she  described  their  loveliness,  and  related 
that  they  were  erected  to  pleasure  a  Per- 
sian princess  whose  eyes  had  wearied  of 
the  monotony  of  the  Babylonian  plain. 

Once  when  Pappus  was  present — and 
latterly  he  had  been  often  there — she 
passed  from  the  gardens  to  the  grove 
where  the  temple  of  Mylitta  stood.  At 
the  steps  of  the  shrine,  she  declared,  were 
white-winged  lions,  and  immense  bulls 
with  human  heads.  Within  were  dove- 
cotes and  cisterns,  the  emblems  of  fecun- 
dity, and  a  block  of  stone  which  she  did 
not  describe.  Without,  among  the  tere- 
binths and  evergreens,  were  little  cabins 
and  an  avenue  bordered  by  cypress  trees, 
in  which  men  with  pointed  hats  and  long 
embroidered  gowns  passed  slowly,  for 


MARY  MAGDALEN,  79 

there  the  maidens  of  Babylon  sat,  chap- 
leted  with  cords,  burning  bran  for  per- 
fume, awaiting  the  will  of  the  first  who 
should  toss  a  coin  in  their  lap  and  in 
the  name  of  Mylitta  invite  them  to  per- 
form the  sacred  rite. 

"  That,"  said  Sephorah,  "  is  the  wor- 
ship Mylitta  exacts."  As  she  spoke  she 
drew  herself  up,  her  height  increased, 
an  unnatural  splendor  filled  her  eyes. 
"I,"  she  continued,  "am  her  priestess. 
I  sacrificed  at  Byblus,  but  you  may  sac- 
rifice here.  There  is  a  dovecote,  yonder 
is  a  cistern,  beyond  are  the  cypress  and 
the  evergreens  that  she  loves.  Mary,  do 
you  wish  to  be  immortal  ?  Do  you  see 
the  way  ?  " 

Mary  smiled  vaguely,  and  with  the 
serenity  of  one  worshipping  a  divinity 
she  suffered  the  fat  Jerusalemite  to  take 
her  in  his  arms. 

And  now  as  she  lay  on  her  great  couch 
these  things  returned  to  her,  and  sub- 
sequent episodes  as  well.  There  had 
been  the  lamentable  grief  of  Martha,  the 
added  pathos  in  her  brother's  eyes.  The 


80  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

estate  of  her  father  had  been  divided, 
and  the  castle  of  Magdala  had  fallen  to 
her  share.  Meanwhile  she  had  been  at 
Jerusalem,  and  from  there  she  had 
journeyed  to  Antioch,  where  she  had 
beard  the  beasts  roar  in  the  arena. 
She  had  looked  on  blood,  on  the  honey- 
colored  moon  that  effaced  the  stars, 
and  everywhere  she  had  encountered 
love. 

Since  then  her  hours  had  been  grooved 
in  revolving  circles  of  alternating  de- 
lights, and  delights  to  which  no  shadow 
of  regret  had  come.  To  her,  youth  had 
been  a  chalice  of  aromatic  wine.  She 
had  drained  it  and  found  no  dregs. 
Day  had  been  interwoven  with  splendors, 
and  night  with  the  rays  of  the  sun. 
Where  she  passed  she  conquered ;  when 
she  smiled  there  were  slaves  ready-made. 
There  had  been  hot  brawls  where  she 
trod,  the  gleam  of  white  knives.  Men 
had  killed  each  other  because  of  her 
eyes,  and  women  had  wept  themselves 
to  death.  For  her  a  priest  had  gone 
mad,  and  a  betrothed  had  hid  herself 


MART  MAGDALEN,  81 

in  the  sea.  In  Hierapolis  the  galli  had 
fancied  her  Ashtaroth ;  and  at  Capri, 
where  Tiberius  lounged,  a  villa  awaited 
her  will. 

Her  life  had  indeed  been  full,  yet  that 
morning  its  nausea  had  mounted  to  her 
heart.  At  the  words  of  the  rabbi  the 
horizon  had  expanded,  the  dream  of  im- 
mortality returned.  It  had  been  forgot 
long  since  and  abandoned,  but  now,  for 
the  first  time  since  her  childhood,  some- 
thing there  was  which  admonished  her 
that  perhaps  she  still  might  stroll  through 
lands  where  dreams  come  true.  The 
path  was  not  wholly  clear  as  yet,  and  as 
in  her  troubled  mind  she  tried  to  dis- 
entangle the  past  from  the  present  the 
sun  went  down  behind  the  castle,  the 
crouching  shadows  elongated  and  pos- 
sessed the  walls. 

An  echo  came  to  her,  Eepent,  and  the 
prophecy  continuing  danced  in  her  ears  ; 
yet  still  the  way  was  obscure.  In  the 
echo  she  divined  merely  that  the  past 
must  be  put  from  her  like  a  garment 
that  is  stained.  The  rest  was  vague. 


82  KARY  MAGDALEN. 

Then  suddenly  she  was  back  again  in 
Machserus,  and  she  heard  the  ringing 
words  of  John.  Could  this  be  the  Mes- 
siah her  nation  awaited  ?  was  there  a 
kingdom  coming,  and  immortality  too  ? 

Her  thoughts  entangled  and  grew  con- 
fused. There  was  a  murmur  of  harps  in 
the  distance,  and  she  wondered  whence 
it  could  come.  Some  one  was  speaking ; 
she  tried  to  rouse  herself  and  listen. 
The  room  was  filled  with  bats  that 
changed  to  butterflies.  The  murmur  of 
harps  continued,  and  through  the  wall 
before  her  issued  a  litter  in  which  a 
woman  lay. 

A  circle  of  slaves  surrounded  her. 
She  was  pale,  and  her  eyes  closed  lan- 
guorously. "I  am  Indolence,"  she  said. 
"Sleep  is  not  softer  than  my  couch. 
My  lightest  wish  is  law  to  kings.  I  live 
on  perfumes ;  my  days  are  as  shadows 
on  glass.  Mary,  come  with  me,  and  I  will 
teach  you  to  forget." 

She  vanished,  and  where  the  litter 
had  been  stood  a  eunuch.  "  I  am  Envy," 
he  said,  and  his  eyes  drooped  sullenly. 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  83 

"  I  separate  those  that  love  ;  I  dismantle 
altars  and  dismember  nations.  I  cor- 
rode and  corrupt ;  I  destroy,  and  I  never 
rebuild.  My  joy  is  malice,  and  my  creed 
false-witnessing.  Mary,  come  with  me, 
and  you  will  learn  to  hate." 

He  disappeared,  and  where  his  slime 
had  dripped  stood  a  being  with  fingers 
intertwisted  and  a  back  that  bent.  "I 
am  Greed,"  it  said.  "  I  sap  the  veins  of 
youth  ;  I  drain  the  hearts  of  women ;  I 
bring  contention  where  peace  should  be. 
I  make  fathers  destroy  their  sons,  and 
daughters  betray  their  mother.  I  never 
forget,  and  I  never  release.  I  am  the 
master.  Mary,  come  with  me,  and  you 
shall  own  the  world." 

The  fetor  of  the  presence  went,  and  in 
its  place  came  one  whose  footsteps  thun- 
dered. "  I  am  Anger,"  he  declared.  "  I 
exterminate  and  rejoice.  I  batten  on 
blood.  In  my  heart  is  suspicion,  in  my 
hand  is  flame.  It  is  I  that  am  war  and 
disaster  and  regret.  My  breath  consumes, 
and  my  voice  affrights.  Mary,  come  with 
me,  and  you  will  learn  to  quell." 


84  MART  MAGDALEN. 

He  dissolved,  and  in  the  shadows  stood 
one  whose  hands  were  ample,  and  whose 
wide  mouth  laughed.  "  I  am  Gluttony," 
he  announced,  and  as  he  spoke  his  voice 
was  thick.  "  I  fatten  and  forsake.  I  offer 
satrapies  for  one  new  dish.  I  invite  and 
alienate,  I  welcome  and  repel.  It  is  I 
that  bring  disease  and  disorders.  I  am 
the  harbinger  of  Death.  Mary,  come  with 
me,  and  you  shall  taste  of  Life." 

He  also  disappeared,  and  two  heralds 
entered  with  trumpets  on  which  they 
blew,  and  one  exclaimed,  "Make  way  for 
Assurbanipal,  ruler  of  land  and  of  sea." 
Then,  with  horsemen  riding  royally, 
Sardanapalus  advanced  through  the  fis- 
sure in  the  wall.  On  his  head  a  high 
and  wonderful  tiara  shone  with  zebras 
that  had  wings  and  horns.  His  hair  was 
long,  and  his  beard  curled  in  overlap- 
ping rings.  His  robe  dazzled,  and  the 
close  sleeves  were  fastened  over  his 
knuckles  with  bracelets  of  precious  stones. 
In  one  hand  he  held  a  sceptre,  in  the 
other  a  chart. 

"I,"  he  cried — "I  am  Assurbanipal; 


MAST  MAGDALEN.  86 

the  progeny  of  Assur  and  of  Baaltis,  son 
of  the  great  king  Eiduti,  whom  the 
lord  of  crowns,  in  days  remote  prophesy- 
ing in  his  name,  raised  to  the  kingdom, 
and  in  the  womb  of  his  mother  created 
to  rule.  The  man  of  war,  the  joy  of  Assur 
and  of  Istar,  the  royal  offspring,  am  L 
When  the  gods  seated  me  on  the  throne 
of  the  father  my  begetter,  Bin  poured 
down  his  rain,  Hea  feasted  the  people. 
My  enemies  I  destroyed,  and  their  gods 
glorified  me  before  my  camp.  The  god 
of  their  oracles,  whose  image  no  man  had 
seen,  I  took,  and  the  goddesses  whom 
the  kings  worshipped  I  dishonored." 

He  paused  and  looked  proudly  about, 
then  he  continued : 

"That  which  is  in  the  storehouse  of 
heaven  is  kindled,  and  to  the  city  of  cities 
my  glory  flies.  The  queens  above  and 
below  proclaim  my  glory.  I  am  Glory, 
and  I  am  Pride.  Mary,  come  with  me, 
and  you  shall  disdain  the  sky." 

But  Mary  gave  no  sign.  The  clattering 
horses  vanished,  and  two  men  dressed  in 


86  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

women's  clothes  appeared.  They  bowed 
to  the  ground  and  chanted : 

"  The  holy  goddess,  our  Lady  Mylitta, 
whose  sacrificants  we  are." 

Then  came  a  form  so  luminous  that 
Mary  hid  her  face  and  listened  merely. 

"  I,"  said  a  voice — "  I  am  Desire.  In 
Greece  I  am  revered,  and  there  I  am 
Aphrodite.  In  Italy  I  am  Venus ;  in 
Egypt,  Hathor ;  in  Armenia,  Anaitis ;  in 
Persia,  Anahita ;  Tanit  in  Carthage ; 
Baaltis  in  Byblus ;  Derceto  in  Ascalon  ; 
Atargatis  in  Hierapolis ;  Bilet  in  Babylon ; 
Ashtaroth  to  the  Sidonians ;  and  Aschera 
in  the  glades  of  Judaea.  And  every- 
where I  am  worshipped,  and  everywhere 
I  am  Love.  I  bring  joy  and  torture,  de- 
light and  pain.  I  appease  and  appal. 
It  is  I  that  create  and  undo.  It  is  I  that 
make  heaven  and  people  hell.  I  am  the 
mistress  of  the  world.  Without  me  time 
would  cease  to  be.  I  am  the  germ  of 
stars,  the  essence  of  things.  I  am  all 
that  is,  will  be,  and  has  been,  and  my  robe 
no  mortal  has  raised.  I  breathe,  and  na- 
tions are  ;  in  my  parturitions  are  planets  j 


MART  MAGDALEN.  87 

my  home  is  space.  My  lips  are  bliss- 
fuller  than  any  bloom  of  bliss ;  my  arms 
the  opening  gates  of  life.  The  Infinite  is 
mine.  Mary,  come  with  me,  and  you  shall 
measure  it." 

When  Mary  ventured  to  look  again  the 
vision  had  gone.  They  had  all  gone  now- 
She  had  made  no  effort  to  detain  them. 
They  were  tempters  of  which  she  was 
freed,  in  which  she  believed,  and  which 
were  real  to  her.  The  wall  through  which 
they  had  come  and  departed  was  vague 
and  in  the  darkness  remote,  but  presently 
it  dissolved  again,  and  afar  in  the  beckon- 
ing distance  was  one  breathing  a  soul  into 
decrepit  rites.  "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that 
sorrow  and  are  heavy-laden,"  she  heard 
him  say ;  and,  as  with  a  great  sob  of  joy 
she  rose  to  that  gracious  summons,  night 
seized  her.  When  she  awoke,  a  newer 
dawn  had  come. 


CHAPTER   IV. 


IV. 

IN  the  gardens  of  the  palace  the  te- 
trarch  mused.  The  green  parasols  of  the 
palms  formed  an  avenue,  and  down  that 
avenue  now  and  then  he  looked.  Near 
him  a  Syrian  bear,  quite  tame,  with  a 
sweet  face  and  tufted  silver  fur,  gambolled 
prodigiously.  Up  and  down  a  neighbor- 
ing tree  two  lemurs  chased  with  that 
grace  and  diabolic  vivacity  which  those  en- 
chanting animals  alone  possess.  Binged- 
horned  antelopes,  the  ankles  slender  as 
the  stylus,  the  eyes  timid  and  trustful^ 
pastured  just  beyond ;  and  there  too  a 
black-faced  ape,  irritated  perhaps  by  the 
lemurs,  turned  indignant  somersaults,  the 
tender  coloring  of  his  body  glistening  in 
the  sun. 

"  It  is  odd  that  Pahul  does  not  return," 
the  tetrarch  reflected  ;  and  then,  it  may  be 

for  consolation's  sake,  he  plunged  his  face 

91 


92  MART  MAGDALEN. 

in  a  jar  of  wine  that  had  been  drained,  in 
accordance  with  a  recipe  of  Vitellius, 
through  cinnamon  and  calamus,  and  drank 
abundantly. 

Long  since  he  had  deserted  Machaerus. 
The  legends  that  peopled  its  corridors 
had  beset  him  with  a  sense  of  reality 
which  before  they  had  never  possessed. 
The  leaves  of  the  baaras  glittered  frenet- 
ically in  the  basalt,  and  in  their  spectral 
light  a  phantom  with  eyes  that  cursed 
came  and  went.  At  night  he  had  drunk, 
and  in  the  clear  forenoons  he  paced  the 
terrace  fancying  always  that  there,  beyond 
in  the  desert,  Aretas  prowled  like  a 
wolf.  Machserus  was  unhealthy ;  men  had 
gone  mad  there,  others  had  disappeared 
entirely.  It  was  a  haunt  of  echoes,  of 
memories,  of  ghosts  also,  perhaps  too  of 
reproach.  And  so,  with  his  court,  he  re- 
turned to  his  brand-new  Tiberias,  where 
the  air  was  serener,  and  nature  laughed. 

And  yet  in  the  gardens  that  leaned  to 
the  lake  the  tranquillity  he  had  antici- 
pated eluded  and  declined  to  be  detained. 
Humors  that  Herodias  collected  came  to 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  93 

him  with  the  stamp  of  Borne.  One  of  his 
brothers  was  plotting  against  him;  an- 
other, though  in  exile,  was  plotting  too. 
It  was  the  Herod  blood,  his  wife  said ; 
and,  with  the  intemperance  of  a  woman 
whose  ambition  has  been  deceived,  she 
taunted  him  with  his  plebeian  descent. 
"Your  grandfather  was  a  sweep  at  As- 
calon,  a  eunuch  at  that,"  she  had  re- 
marked; and  the  tetrarch,  by  way  of 
reply,  had  been  obliged  to  content  him- 
self by  asking  how,  in  that  case,  he  could 
have  been  grandfather  at  all. 

But  latterly  a  new  source  of  inquietude 
had  come.  At  Magdala,  Capharnahum, 
Bethsai'da,  there,  within  the  throw  of  a 
stone, was  a  Nazarene  going  about  inciting 
the  peasants  to  revolt.  It  was  very  vexa- 
tious, and  he  told  himself  that  when  an 
annoyance  fades  another  appears.  Life, 
it  occurred  to  him,  was  a  brier  with  re- 
nascent thorns.  And  now,  as  he  gargled 
the  wine  that  left  a  pink  foam  on  his 
lips,  even  that  irritation  lapsed  in  the 
perplexing  absence  of  Pahul. 

Pahul  was  a  butler   of  his,  a   Greek 


94  MART  MAGDALEN. 

whom  he  had  picked  up  one  adventurous 
night  in  Rome,  who  had  made  himself 
useful,  whom  he  had  attached  to  his 
household,  whom  he  consulted,  and  on 
whom  he  relied.  Early  that  day  he  had 
sent  him  off  with  instructions  to  run  the 
demagogue  to  earth,  to  listen,  to  question 
if  need  were,  and  to  hurry  back  and  re- 
port. But  as  yet  he  had  not  returned. 
The  day  was  fading,  and  on  the  amphithe- 
atre which  the  hills  made  the  sun  seemed 
to  balance  itself,  the  disk  blood-red.  Thi? 
lemurs  had  tired,  perhaps  ;  their  yellow 
eyes  and  circled  tails  had  gone ;  the  bear 
had  been  led  away ;  only  the  multicolored 
ape  remained,  gnawing  now  with  little 
plaintive  moans  at  a  bit  of  fruit  which  he 
held  suspiciously  in  his  wrinkled  hand. 

Presently  a  star  appeared  and  quivered, 
then  another  came,  and  though  overhead 
were  streaks  of  pink,  and,  where  the 
sun  had  been,  a  violence  of  red  and  or- 
ange, the  east  retained  its  cobalt,  night 
still  was  remote — an  echo  of  crotals  from 
the  neighboring  faubourg,  the  cry  of 


MART  MAGDALEN.  96 

elephants  impatient  for  their  fodder, 
alone  indicating  that  a  day  was  dead. 

In  the  charm  of  the  encroaching  twilight 
the  irritation  of  the  tetrarch  waned  and 
decreased.  He  lost  himself  in  memories 
of  the  princess  who  had  been  his  bride, 
and  he  wondered  were  it  possible  that, 
despite  the  irrevocable,  he  was  never  to 
see,  to  speak,  to  hold  her  to  him  again. 
Truly  her  grievance  was  immeasurable, 
the  more  so  even  that  she  had  not  deigned 
to  utter  so  much  as  a  reproach.  At  the 
rumor  of  his  treachery  she  had  betaken 
herself  to  the  solitudes,  where  Aretas  her 
father  was  king,  and  had  there  remained 
girt  in  that  unmurmuring  silence  which 
nobility  raises  as  a  barrier  between  out- 
rage and  itself,  and  which  the  desert  is 
alone  competent  to  suggest. 

"It  is  he!" 

The  tetrarch  started  so  abruptly  that 
he  narrowly  missed  the  jar  at  his  side. 
On  noiseless  sandals  Pahul  had  ap- 
proached, and  stood  before  him  nodding 
his  head  with  an  air  of  assured  conviction. 


96  MART  MAGDALEN. 

The  ape  had  fled  and  a  stork  stepped 
gingerly  away. 

"  It  is  he,"  the  Greek  repeated — "  John 
the  Baptist." 

Antipas  plucked  at  his  beard.  "  But 
he  is  dead,"  he  gasped ;  "  I  beheaded  him. 
What  nonsense  you  talk  !  " 

"  It  is  he,  I  tell  you,  only  grown  younger. 
I  found  him  in  the  synagogue." 

"  "Where  ?  what  synagogue  ?  " 

Pahul  made  a  gesture.  "At  Ca- 
pharnahum,"  he  answered,  and  gazed  in 
the  tetrarch's  face.  He  was  slight  of  form 
and  regular  of  feature.  As  a  lad  he  had 
crossed  bare-handed  from  Cumae  to  Rhe- 
gium,  and  from  there  drifted  to  Rome, 
where  he  started  a  commerce  in  Bcetican 
girls  which  had  so  far  prospered  that  he 
bought  two  vessels  to  carry  the  freight 
Unfortunately  the  vessels  met  in  a  storm 
and  sank.  Then  he  became  a  hanger-on 
of  the  circus  ;  in  idle  moments  a  tout.  It 
was  in  the  latter  capacity  that  Antipas 
met  him,  and,  pleased  with  his  shrewdness 
and  perfect  corruption,  had  attached  him 
to  his  house.  This  had  occurred  in  years 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  97 

previous,  and  as  yet  Antipas  had  found 
no  cause  to  regret  the  trust  imposed.  He 
was  a  useful  braggart,  idle,  familiar,  and 
discreet ;  and  he  had  acquired  the  dialect 
of  the  country  with  surprising  ease. 

"  There  were  any  number  of  people,'* 
Pahul  continued.  "Some  said  he  was 
the  son  of  Joseph,  the  son  of " 

"  But  he,  what  did  he  say  ?  How  tire- 
some you  are ! " 

"Ah!"  And  Pahul  swung  his  arms. 
"  Who  is  Mammon  ?  " 

"Mammon?  Mammon?  How  do  I 
know  ?  Plutus,  I  suppose.  What  about 
him?" 

"And  who  is  Satan?" 

"  Satan  ?  Satan  is  a —  He's  a  Jew 
god.  Why  ?  But  what  do  you  mean  by 
asking  me  questions?  " 

Pahul  nodded  absently.  "  I  heard  him 
say,"  he  continued,  "  that  no  man  could 
serve  God  and  Mammon.  At  first  I 
thought  he  meant  you.  It  was  this  way. 
I  got  into  conversation  with  a  friend  of 
his,  a  man  named  Judas.  He  told  me  any 


98  MART  MAGDALEN. 

number  of  things  about  him,  that  he  cured 
the  sick " 

"  Bah  !     Some  Greek  physician." 

"  That  he  walks  on  the  sea " 

"  Nonsense ! " 

"  That  he  turns  water  into  wine,  feeds 
the  multitude,  raises  the  dead " 

"  Eaises  the  dead ! "  And  the  tetrarch 
added  in  the  sotto  voce  of  thought,  "So 
did  Elijah." 

"  That  he  had  been  in  the  desert " 

"With  Aretas?" 

"No;  I  questioned  him  on  that  point. 
He  had  never  heard  of  Aretas,  but  he  said 
that  in  the  desert  this  Satan  had  come 
and  offered  him — what  do  you  suppose  ? 
The  empire  of  the  earth  I  " 

Antipas  shook  with  fright.  "  It  must 
have  been  Aretas." 

"  But  that  he  had  refused." 

"  Then  it  is  John." 

"  There,  you  see."  And  Pahul  dandled 
himself  with  the  air  of  one  who  is  master 
of  logic.  "  That's  what  I  said  myself.  I 
said  this  :  '  If  he  can  raise  the  dead,  he 
can  raise  himself.' " 


MAST  MAGDALEN.  99 

"  It  is  John,"  the  tetrarch  repeated. 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,"  the  butler  continued. 
"But  he  did  not  say  so.  Judas  didn't 
either.  On  the  contrary,  he  declared  he 
was  not.  He  said  John  was  not  good 
enough  to  carry  his  shoes.  I  saw  through 
that,  though,"  and  Pahul  leered ; "  he  knew 
whom  I  was,  and  he  lied  to  protect  his 
friend.  I  of  course  pretended  to  believe 
him." 

"  Quite  right,"  said  the  tetrarch. 

"  Yes,  I  played  the  fool.  H'm,  where 
was  I  ?  Oh,  I  asked  Judas  who  then 
his  friend  was,  but  he  went  over  to  where 
a  woman  stood  ;  he  spoke  to  her  ;  she 
moved  away.  Some  of  the  others  seemed 
to  reprove  him.  I  would  have  followed, 
but  at  that  moment  his  friend  stood  up  ; 
a  khazzan  offered  him  a  scroll,  but  he 
waved  it  aside  ;  then  some  one  asked  him 
a  question  which  I  did  not  catch  ;  another 
spoke  to  him  ;  a  third  interrupted ;  he 
seemed  to  be  arguing  with  them.  I  was 
too  far  away  to  hear  well,  andl  got  nearer ; 
then  I  heard  him  say,  '  I  am  the  bread  of 
life.'  Now,  what  did  he  mean  by  that?  " 


100  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

Antipas  had  no  explanation  to  offer. 

"  Then,"  Pahul  continued,  "  he  said  he 
had  come  down  from  heaven.  A  man 
near  me  exclaimed,  '  He  is  the  Messiah  ; ' 
but  others " 

"  The  Messiah  !  "  echoed  the  tetrarch. 
For  a  moment  his  thoughts  stammered, 
then  at  once  he  was  back  in  the  citadel. 
On  one  side  was  the  procurator,  on  the 
other  the  emir  of  Tadmor.  In  front  of 
him  was  a  drunken  rabble,  wrangling 
Pharisees,  and  one  man  dominating  the 
din  with  an  announcement  of  the  Mes- 
siah's approach.  The  murmur  of  lutes 
threaded  through  it  all ;  and  now,  as  his 
thoughts  deviated,  he  wondered  could  that 
announcement  have  been  the  truth. 

"  But  others,"  Pahul  continued,  "  ob- 
jected loudly.  For  a  little  I  could  not 
catch  a  word.  At  last  they  became  quieter, 
and  I  heard  him  repeat  that  he  was  the 
bread  of  life,  adding,  '  Tour  fathers  ate 
manna  and  are  dead,  but  this  bread  a 
man  may  eat  of  and  never  die.'  At  this 
there  was  new  contention.  A  woman 
fainted — the  one  to  whom  Judas  had 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  101 

spoken.  They  carried  her  out.  As  she 
passed  I  could  see  her  face.  It  was 
Mary  of  Magdala.  Judas  held  her  by 
the  waist,  another  her  feet." 

Antipas  drew  a  hand  across  his  face. 
"  It  is  impossible,"  he  muttered. 

"  Not  impossible  at  all.  I  saw  her  as 
plainly  as  I  see  you.  The  man  next  to 
me  said  that  the  Kabbi  had  cast  from  her 
seven  devils.  Moreover,  Johanna  was 
there — yes,  yes,  the  wife  of  Khuza,  your 
steward ;  it  was  she,  I  remember  now,  who 
had  her  by  the  feet.  And  there  were 
others  that  I  recognized,  and  others  that 
the  man  next  to  me  pointed  out :  Zab- 
dia,  a  well-to-do  fisherman  whom  I  have 
seen  time  and  again,  and  with  him  his 
sons  James  and  John,  and  Salome  his 
wife.  Then,  too,  there  were  Simon  Bar- 
jona  and  Andrew  his  brother.  Simon 
had  his  wife  with  him,  his  children,  and 
his  mother-in-law.  The  man  next  to  me 
said  that  the  Rabbi  called  James  and 
John  the  Sons  of  Thunder,  and  Simon  a 
stone.  There  was  Mathias  the  tax-gath- 
erer, Philip  of  Bethsaida,  Joseph  Bar- 


102  MART  MAGDALEN. 

saba,  Mary  Clopas,  Susannah,  Nathaniel 
of  Cana,  Thomas,  Thaddeus,  Aristian  the 
custom-house  officer,  Ruth  the  tax-gath- 
erer's wife,  mechanics  from  Scythopolis, 
and  Scribes  from  Jerusalem." 

The  fingers  of  Antipas'  hand  glittered 
with  jewels.  He  played  with  them  ner- 
vously. The  sky  seemed  immeasurably 
distant.  For  some  little  time  it  had  been 
hesitating  between  different  shades  of 
blue,  but  now  it  chose  a  fathomless 
indigo ;  Night  unloosed  her  draperies, 
and,  with  the  prodigality  of  a  queen  who 
reigns  only  when  she  falls,  flung  out  upon 
them  uncounted  stars. 

Pahul  continued :  "  And  many  of  them 
seemed  to  be  at  odds  with  each  other. 
They  wrangled  so  that  often  I  could  not 
distinguish  a  word.  Some  of  them  left 
the  synagogue.  The  Rabbi  himself  must 
have  been  vexed,  for  in  a  lull  I  heard  him 
say  to  those  who  were  nearest, '  Will  you 
also  go  away?'  Judas  came  in  at  that 
moment,  and  he  turned  to  him  :  '  Have  I 
not  chosen  twelve,  and  is  not  one  of  you  a 
devil  ?  '  Judas  came  forward  at  once  and 


MART  MAGDALEN.  103 

protested.  I  could  see  he  was  in  earnest, 
and  meant  what  he  said.  The  man  next 
told  me  that  he  was  devoted  to  the  Rabbi. 
Then  Simon  Barjona,  in  answer  to  his 
question,  called  out,  '  To  whom  should  we 
go  ?  Thou  art  Christ,  the  Son  of  God.' " 

Antipas  had  ceased  to  listen.  At  the 
mention  of  the  Messiah  the  dream  of 
Israel  had  returned,  and  with  it  the  pa- 
geants of  its  faith  unrolled. 

Behind  the  confines  of  history,  in  the 
naked  desert  he  saw  a  bedouin,  austere 
and  grandiose,  preparing  the  tenets  of  a 
nation's  creed;  in  the  remoter  past  a 
shadow  in  which  there  was  lightning,  then 
the  splendor  of  that  first  dawn  where  the 
future  opened  like  a  book,  and  in  the 
grammar  of  the  Eternal  the  promise  of  an 
age  of  gold. 

Through  the  echo  of  succeeding  genera- 
tions came  the  rumor  of  that  initial  im- 
pulse which  drew  the  world  in  its  flight. 
The  bedouin  had  put  the  desert  behind 
him,  and  stared  at  another.  Where  the 
sand  had  been  was  the  sea.  As  he  passed, 
the  land  leapt  into  life.  There  were 


104  MAEY  MAGDALEN. 

tents  and  passions,  clans  not  men,  an  ag- 
gregate of  forces  in  which  the  unit  disap- 
peared. For  chieftain  there  was  Might ; 
and  above,  the  subjects  of  impersonal 
verbs,  the  Elohim  from  whom  the  thunder 
came,  the  rain,  light  and  darkness,  death 
and  birth,  dream  too,  and  nightmare  as 
well  The  clans  migrated.  Goshen 
called.  In  its  heart  Chaldaea  spoke.  The 
Elohim  vanished,  and  there  was  El,  the 
one  great  god,  and  Isra-el,  the  great 
god's  elect.  From  heights  that  lost  them- 
selves in  immensity  the  ineffable  name, 
incommunicable  and  never  to  be  pro- 
nounced, was  seared  by  forked  flames  on 
a  tablet  of  stone.  A  nation  learned  that 
El  was  Jehovah,  that  they  were  in  his 
charge,  that  he  was  omnipotent,  and  that 
the  world  was  theirs. 

They  had  a  law,  a  covenant,  a  future, 
and  a  god ;  and  as  they  passed  into  the 
lands  of  the  well-beloved,  leaving  tombs 
and  altars  to  mark  their  passage,  they  had 
battle-cries  that  frightened  and  hymns 
that  exalted  the  heart.  Above  were  the 
jealous  eyes  of  Jehovah,  and  beyond 


MART  MAGDALEN.  106 

was  the  resplendent  to-morrow.  They 
ravaged  the  land  like  hailstones.  They 
had  the  whirlwind  for  ally;  the  moon  was 
their  servant ;  and  to  aid  them  the  sun 
stood  still.  The  terror  of  Sinai  gleamed 
from  their  breastplates;  men  could  not 
see  their  faces  and  live.  They  encroached 
and  conquered.  They  had  a  home,  they 
made  a  capitol,  and  there  on  a  rock-bound 
hill  Antipas  saw  David  founding  a  line  of 
kings,  and  Solomon  the  city  of  god. 

It  was  in  their  loins  the  Messiah  was ; 
in  them  the  apex  of  a  nation's  prosperity ; 
in  them  glory  at  its  apogee.  And  across 
that  tableau  of  might,  of  splendor,  and 
of  submission  for  one  second  flitted  the 
silhouette  of  that  dainty  princess  of 
Utopia,  the  Queen  of  Sheba,  bringing 
riddles,  romance,  and  riches  to  the  wise 
young  king. 

She  must  have  been  very  beautiful, 
Antipas  with  melancholy  retrospection 
reflected  ;  and  he  fancied  her  more  lumi- 
nous than  the  twelve  signs  of  the  zodiac, 
lounging  nonchalantly  in  a  palanquin  that 
a  white  elephant  with  swaying  tai)  bal- 


106  MART  MAGDALEN. 

anced  on  his  painted  back.  And  even  as 
she  returned,  with  a  child  perhaps,  to  the 
griffons  of  the  fabulous  Yemen  whence 
she  came,  Antipas  noted  a  speck  on  the 
horizon  that  grew  from  minim  into 
mountain,  and  obscured  the  entire  sky. 
He  saw  the  empire  split  in  twain,  and  in 
the  twin  halves  that  formed  the  perfect 
whole,  a  concussion  of  armies,  brothers 
appealing  against  their  kin,  the  flight  of 
the  Ideal. 

Unsummoned  before  him  paraded  the 
regicides,  convulsions,  and  anarchies  that 
deified  Hatred  until  Vengeance  incarnate 
talked  Assyrian,  and  Nebuchadnezzar 
loomed  above  the  desert  beyond.  His 
statue  filled  the  perspective.  With  one 
broad  hand  he  overturned  Jerusalem;  with 
another  he  swept  a  nation  into  captivity, 
leaving  in  derision  a  pigmy  for  King  of 
Solitude  behind,  and,  blowing  the  Jews 
into  Babylon,  there  retained  them  until 
it  occurred  to  Cyrus  to  change  the  Eu- 
phrates' course. 

By  the  light  of  that  legend  Antipas  saw 
an  immense  hall,  illuminated  by  the  seven 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  107 

branches  of  countless  candelabra,  and 
filled  with  revellers  celebrating  a  mon- 
arch's feast.  Beyond,  through  retreating 
columns,  were  cyclopean  arches  and  tow- 
ers whose  summits  were  lost  in  clouds  that 
the  lightning  rent.  At  the  royal  table  sat 
Belsarazzur,  laughing  mightily  at  the  en«- 
terprise  of  the  Persian  king ;  about  him 
were  the  grandees  of  his  court,  the  flower 
of  his  concubines ;  at  his  side  were  the 
sacred  vases  filled  with  wine.  He  raised 
one  to  his  lips,  and  there  on  the  frieze 
before  him  leapt  out  the  flaming  letters 
of  his  doom,  while  to  the  trumpetings  of 
heralds  Cyrus  and  his  army  beat  down 
the  city's  gates. 

It  passed,  and  Antipas  saw  Jerusalem 
repeopled,  the  Temple  rebuilt,  peace  after 
exile,  the  joy  of  bondage  unloosed.  For 
a  moment  it  lasted — a  century  or  two  at 
most;  and  after  Alexander,  in  chasing 
kings  hither  and  thither,  had  passed  with 
his  huntsmen  that  way,  Isis  and  Osiris 
beckoned,  and  the  descendants  of  the  bed- 
ouin belonged  to  Goshen  again,  and  so  re- 
mained until  Syria  took  them,  lost  them, 


108  MART  MAGDALEN. 

reconquered  them,  and  might  have  done 
with  them  utterly  had  not  Juda  Macca- 
bseus  flaunted  his  banner,  and  the  Roman 
eagles  pounced  upon  their  prey.  Once 
more  the  Temple  was  rebuilt,  surperber 
than  ever,  and  from  the  throne  of  David, 
Antipas  saw  the  upstart  that  was  his 
father  rule  Judaea. 

With  him  the  panorama  and  the  ka- 
leidoscope of  its  details  abruptly  ceased. 
But  through  it  all  the  voices  of  the 
prophets  had  rung  more  insistently  with 
each  defeat.  The  covenant  in  the  wilder- 
ness was  unf orgetable ;  in  the  chained 
links  of  slavery  they  saw  the  steps  of  a 
throne,  the  triumph  of  truth  over  error, 
peace  over  war,  Israel  pontiff  and  shep- 
herd of  the  nations  of  the  world. 

The  expectation  of  a  liberator  who 
should  free  the  bonds  of  a  people  and 
definitively  re-create  the  land  of  the  elect 
possessed  them  utterly;  his  advent  had 
been  constantly  awaited,  obstinately  pro- 
claimed ;  the  faith  in  him  was  unshake- 
able.  Palestine  was  filled  with  believers 
praying  the  Eternal  not  to  let  them  die 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  109 

before  the  promise  was  fulfilled ;  the  at- 
mosphere itself  was  charged  with  expec- 
tation. 

And  as  the  visions  rushed  through  his 
mind,  Antipas  fell  to  wondering  whether 
that  covenant  was  as  meaningless  as  he 
had  thought,  or  whether  by  any  chance 
this  rabbi  who  had  been  arguing  at  Ca- 
pharnahum  could  be  the  usher  of  Israel's 
hope.  If  he  were,  then  indeed  he  might 
say  good-bye  to  his  tetrarchy,  to  his 
dream  of  a  kingdom  as  well. 

"Yes,"  Pahul  repeated,  "the  Son  of 
God!" 

Antipas  had  been  so  far  away  that  now 
he  started  as  one  does  whom  the  touch  of 
a  hand  awakes.  To  recover  himself  he 
leaned  over  and  plunged  his  face  in  the 
jar.  The  wine  brought  him  courage. 

He  must  be  suppressed,  he  decided. 

"But,"  the  butler  continued,  "I-   -" 

The  frontal  of  the  palace  was  set  with 
lights.  The  parasols  of  the  palms  had 
turned  from  green  to  black,  the  stars 
seemed  remoter,  the  sky  more  dark. 


110  MAR7  MAGDALEN. 

From  beyond  came  the  call  and  answer  of 
the  sentinels. 

Antipas  stood  up.  A  fringe  of  his  tunic 
was  detained  by  a  rivet  of  the  bench  on 
which  he  had  sat ;  he  stooped  to  loose  it ; 
something  moist  touched  his  fingers,  and 
as  he  moved  to  the  palace  the  black-faced 
ape  sprang  at  his  side  and  nibbled  at  the 
jewels  on  his  hand. 


CHAPTEK  V. 


V. 

THE  house  of  Simon  Barlevi  was  gray, 
and  in  shape  an  oblong.  It  had  a  flat 
roof  laid  with  a  plaster  of  lime,  about 
which  was  a  fretwork  of  open  tiles.  Be- 
neath, for  doorway,  was  a  recess,  sur- 
mounted by  an  arch  and  covered  with  a 
layer  of  mud.  On  each  side  was  a  room. 

In  the  recess,  sheltered  from  the  sun 
and  visited  by  the  breeze,  Simon  stood. 
His  garments  were  white,  and  where  they 
were  not  they  had  been  neatly  chalked. 
On  the  border  of  his  skirt  and  sleeves 
were  the  regulation  fringes,  and  on  his 
forehead  and  about  his  left  arm  the  phy- 
lacteries which  Pharisees  affect.  He  was 
not  pleasant  to  the  eye,  but  he  was  virtu- 
ous and  a  strict  observer  of  the  Law. 

In  the  room  at  his  left  were  mats  and 
painted  stools,  set  in  the  manner  custom- 
ary when  guests  are  awaited.  For  on 

113 


114  MAST  MAG&ALEIT. 

that  day  Simon  Barlevi  was  to  give  a 
little  feast,  to  which  he  had  bidden  his 
friends  and  also  a  rabbi  whom  he  had 
listened  to  in  the  synagogue,  and  with 
whose  ideas  he  did  not  at  all  agree. 
Save  for  the  mats  and  stools,  and  a  lamp 
of  red  clay,  the  room  was  bare. 

In  front  of  the  house  was  a  bit  of 
ground  enclosed  by  a  hedge  of  stones; 
and  now  as  Simon  stood  in  the  recess  a 
guest  appeared. 

"  Reulah !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  the  Lord 
be  with  you." 

And  Reulah  answering,  as  etiquette  re- 
quired, "  Unto  you  be  peace,  and  to  your 
house  be  peace,  and  unto  all  you  have  be 
peace,"  the  two  friends  clasped  hands 
raised  them  as  though«to  kiss  them,  then 
each  withdrawing  kissed  his  own  hand, 
and  struck  it  on  his  forehead. 

Singularly  enough,  host  and  guest 
looked  much  alike.  Simon  had  the  ap- 
pearance of  one  conscious  of  and  strong 
in  his  own  rectitude,  while  Reulah  seemed 
humbler  and  more  effaced.  Otherwise 


MART  MAGDALEN.  115 

there  was  not  a  pin  to  choose  between 
them. 

To  Simon's  face  had  come  an  expres- 
sion of  perplexity  in  which  there  was 
zeal. 

"I  was  thinking,  Keulah,"  he  an- 
nounced, "  of  the  rabbi  who  is  to  break 
bread  with  us  to-day.  His  teaching  does 
not  comfort  me." 

Beulah  was  unlatching  his  shoes.  "  Nor 
me,"  he  interjected. 

"  On  questions  of  purity  and  impurity 
he  seems  unscrupulously  negligent.  I 
have  heard  that  he  is  a  glutton  and  a 
wine-bibber.  I  have  heard  that  he  de- 
spises the  washing  of  the  hands." 

""Whoso  does,"  Reulah  threw  back, 
"will  be  rooted  out  of  the  world." 

Simon  nodded;  a  smile  of  protracted 
amiability  hovered  in  the  corners  of  his 
mouth.  For  a  moment  he  played  with 
his  beard. 

"  I  think,"  he  added,  "  that  he  will  find 
here  food  in  plenty,  and  counsel  as  well." 

Eeulah  closed  his  eyes  benignly,  and 
Simon,  in  a  falsetto  which  he  affected 


116  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

when  lie  desired  to  impress,  continued  in 
gentle  menace : 

"  But  I  have  certain  questions  to  put  to 
him.  Whether  water  from  an  unclean 
vessel  defiles  that  which  is  clean. 
Whether  the  flesh  of  a  dead  body  alone 
defiles,  or  the  skin  and  bones  as  well.  I 
want  to  see  how  he  will  answer  that 
Then  I  may  ask  his  opinion  on  points  of 
the  ritual.  Should  the  incense  be  lighted 
before  the  high-priest  appears  or  as  he 
does  so.  Is  or  is  not  the  Sabbath  bro- 
ken by  the  killing  of  the  Paschal  lamb  ? 
Why  is  it  lawful  to  take  tithe  of  corn  and 
wine  and  oil,  and  not  of  anise,  cummin, 
and  peppers?  In  swearing  by  the  Tem- 
ple, should  one  not  first  swear  by  the 
gold  on  the  Temple  ?  and  in  swearing  by 
the  altar,  should  one  or  should  one  not 
first  swear  by  the  sacrifices  on  it?  These 
things,  since  he  preaches,  he  must  know. 
If  he  does  not " 

And  Simon  looked  at  his  friend  as  who 
should  say :  What  is  there  wanting  in  me  ? 

"  If  I  may  be  taught  another  duty  I 
will  observe  it,"  said  Keulah,  sweetly. 


MART  MAGDALEN.  117 

At  this  evidence  of  meekness  Simon 
grunted.  Two  other  guests  were  ap- 
proaching. On  the  edges  of  their  tallith 
were  tassels  made  of  four  threads  which 
had  been  drawn  through  an  eyelet  and 
doubled  to  make  eight.  Seven  of  these 
threads  were  of  equal  length,  but  the 
eighth  was  longer,  and,  twisted  into  five 
knots,  represented  the  five  books  of  the 
Law.  The  right  hand  on  the  left  breast, 
they  saluted  their  host,  and  placing  in 
turn  a  hand  under  his  beard,  they  kissed 
it.  A  buzz  of  inquiries  followed,  inter- 
rupted by  the  coming  and  embracing  of 
newer  guests,  the  unloosing  of  sandals, 
the  washing  of  feet. 

As  they  assembled,  one  drew  Simon 
aside  and  whispered  importantly.  Si- 
mon's eyes  dilated,  astonishment  lifted 
him,  visibly,  like  a  lash,  and  his  hands 
trembled  above  his  head. 

"  Have  you  heard,"  he  exclaimed  to  the 
others — "have  you  heard  that  the  Naza- 
rene  whom  I  invited  here,  and  who  pre- 
tends to  be  a  prophet,  allowed  his  fol- 
lowers to  pluck  corn  on  the  Sabbath,  to 


118  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

thresh  it  even,  and  defended  and  ap- 
proved their  violation  of  the  Law  ?  Have 
you  heard  it  ?  Is  is  true  ?  " 

Eeulah  quaked  as  one  stricken  by 
palsy.  "On  the  Sabbath!  "  he  moaned. 
"On  the  Sabbath!  Why,  I  would  not 
send  a  message  on  Wednesday,  lest  per- 
chance it  should  be  delivered  on  the 
Sabbath  day.  Surely  it  cannot  be." 

But  on  that  point  the  others  were  cer- 
tain. They  were  all  aware  of  the  scandal ; 
one  had  been  an  eye-witness,  another  had 
heard  the  Nazarene  assert  that  he  was 
"  Lord  of  the  Day." 

"  This  is  monstrous  !  "  Simon  cried. 

"He  declared,"  the  eye-witness  con- 
tinued, "  that  the  Sabbath  was  made  for 
man,  and  not  man  for  the  Sabbath." 

"  It  is  monstrous  !  "  Simon  repeated. 
"  The  command  to  do  no  manner  of  work 
is  absolute  and  emphatic.  The  killing 
of  a  flea  on  the  Sabbath  is  as  heinous  as 
the  butchering  of  a  bullock.  The  pres- 
ervation of  life  itself  is  inhibited.  Moses 
had  the  son  of  Shelomith  stoned  to  death 
for  gathering  sticks  on  it.  Shammai  oc- 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  119 

cupied  six  days  of  the  week  in  thinking 
how  he  could  best  observe  it.  It  is  un- 
lawful to  wear  a  false  tooth  on  the  Sab- 
bath, and  if  a  tooth  ache  it  is  unlawful  to 
rinse  the  mouth  with  vinegar." 

"  Yet,"  objected  Reulah,  "  it  is  lawful 
to  hold  the  vinegar  in  the  mouth  pro- 
vided you  swallow  it  afterward." 

No  one  paid  any  attention  to  him. 
Simon's  indignation  increased.  Of  the 
thirty-nine  Abhoth  he  quoted  twelve ;  he 
showed  that  the  Nazarene  had  violated 
each  one  of  these  prohibitions  against 
labor ;  he  showed,  too,  that  by  his  sub- 
sequent speech  and  bearing  he  had  prac- 
tically scoffed  at  the  Toldoth,  at  the 
synagogue  which  had  drawn  it  up  as 
well 

"  If  the  Sadducees  were  not  in  power, 

Jerusalem  should  hear  of  this.     As  it 

•          >j 

Whatever  resolution  he  may  have  in- 
tended to  express  remained  unuttered.  A 
silence  fell  upon  his  lips ;  his  guests  drew 
back.  At  the  step  stood  the  Nazarene,  be- 
hind him  his  treasurer,  Judas  of  Kerioth. 


120  MART  MAGDALEN. 

For  a  second  only  Jesus  hesitated.  He 
stooped,  undid  his  shoes,  and  moved  to 
where  Simon  stood.  The  latter  bowed 
constrainedly. 

"  Master,"  he  said,  "  we  awaited  you." 

At  this  his  friends  retreated  into  the 
little  room.  Keulah  reached  the  middle 
seat  of  the  central  mat  first  and  held  it, 
his  nostrils  quivering  at  the  envy  of  the 
others. 

Preceded  by  their  host,  Jesus  and 
Judas  found  places  near  together,  and, 
the  usual  ablutions  performed,  the  cus- 
tomary prayers  recited,  lay,  the  upper 
part  of  the  body  supported  by  the  left 
arm,  the  head  raised,  the  limbs  out- 
stretched. 

On  the  stools  were  dishes  of  stewed 
lentils,  milk,  and  cakes  of  mashed  locusts. 
Keulah  ate  with  the  tips  of  his  lips, 
greedily,  like  a  goat.  Judas,  too,  ate 
with  an  air  of  hunger.  The  Master 
broke  bread  absently,  his  thoughts  on 
other  things.  These  thoughts  Simon  in- 
terrupted. 

"  Babbi  " — and  to  his  wide  mouth  came 


MART  MAGDALEN.  121 

the  sneer  of  one  propounding  a  riddle 
already  solved — "it  is  not  meet,  is  it,  to 
thresh  on  the  Sabbath  day?  Yet  since 
you  permit  your  followers  to  do  so,  how 
are  we  to  distinguish  between  what  is 
lawful  and  what  is  not  ?  " 

The  Master  raised  his  eyes.  The  dawn 
was  in  them,  high  noon  as  well. 

"  Show  yourself  a  tried  money-changer. 
Choose  that  which  is  good  metal,  reject 
that  which  is  bad." 

Simon  blinked  as  at  a  sudden  light. 

"But,"  he  persisted,  "in  seeking  to 
observe  the  Law,  there  is  not  a  jot  or 
tittle  in  it  that  can  be  rejected." 

With  an  acquiescence  that  was  both 
vague  and  melancholy,  Jesus  looked  the 
Pharisee  in  the  face. 

"  Seek  those  things  that  are  great,  and 
little  things  will  be  added  unto  you " 

He  would  have  said  more,  perhaps,  but 
a  woman  who  had  entered  from  the  re- 
cess approached  circuitously,  and  kneel- 
ing beside  him  let  a  tear,  long  as  a  pearl, 
fall  upon  his  unsandalled  feet. 

Judas'   heart  bounded ;  he  glared  at 


122  MART  MAGDALEN. 

her,  his  eyes  dilating  like  a  leopard  pre- 
paring to  spring.  At  once  he  was  back 
in  the  circus,  gazing  into  the  perils  and 
the  splendors  of  a  woman's  face,  telling 
himself  with  reiterated  insistence  that  to 
hold  her  to  him  would  be  the  birthday 
of  his  life ;  and  here,  within  reach  of  his 
hand,  was  she  whom  in  the  din  of  the 
chariots  he  had  recognized  as  the  one 
woman  in  all  the  world,  and  who  for  one 
moment  the  day  before  had  lain  uncon- 
scious in  his  arms. 

Keulah  sat  motionless,  his  mouth 
agape,  a  finger  extended.  "  The  para- 
mour of  Pandera,"  he  stammered  at  last ; 
and  lowering  his  eyes,  he  looked  at  her 
covetously  from  beneath  the  lids. 

Simon,  too,  sat  motionless.  There  was 
rage  in  his  expression,  hate  even — that 
hatred  which  the  beautiful  excites  in  the 
base.  Time  and  again  he  had  seen  her ; 
she  was  a  byword  with  him;  from  the 
height  of  her  residence  she  looked  down 
on  his  mean  gray  walls ;  her  luxury  had 
been  an  insult  to  his  abstinence ;  and  with 
that  zest  which  a  small  nature  takes  in 


MAET  MAGDALEN.  123 

the  humiliation  of  its  superior,  he  deter- 
mined, in  spite  of  her  manifest  abjection, 
to  humiliate  her  still  more. 

"If  this  man,"  he  confided  to  his 
neighbor,  "  has  in  him  anything  of  that 
which  goes  to  the  making  of  a  prophet, 
he  will  divine  what  manner  of  woman 
she  is.  If  he  does  not,  I  will  denounce 
them  both."  And  nourishing  his  hate  he 
waited  yet  a  while. 

The  Master  seemed  depressed.  The 
great  secret  which  in  all  the  world 
he  alone  possessed  may  have  weighed 
with  him.  But  he  turned  to  Mary  and 
looked  at  her.  As  he  looked  she  bent 
yet  lower.  The  marvel  of  her  hair  was 
unconfined ;  it  fell  about  her  in  tang- 
ling streams  of  gold  and  flame,  while  on 
his  feet  there  fell  from  her  tears  such 
as  no  woman  ever  shed  before.  In  the 
era  of  primitive  hospitality  the  daughters 
of  kings  had  not  disdained  to  unlatch 
the  sandals  of  their  fathers'  guests ;  but 
now,  at  the  feet  of  Mercy,  for  the  first 
time  Bepentance  knelt.  And  still  the 
tears  continued,  unstanched  and  unde- 


124  MARY  MAGDALEN, 

tained.  Grief,  something  keener  still 
perhaps,  had  claimed  her  as  its  own. 
She  bent  lower.  Then  Misery  looked  up 
at  Compassion. 

The  Master  stretched  his  hand.  For 
a  moment  it  rested  on  her  head.  She 
quivered  and  clutched  at  her  throat ;  and 
as  he  withdrew  that  hand,  in  which  all 
panaceas  were,  from  her  gown  she  took  a 
little  box,  opened  it,  and  dropping  the 
contents  where  the  tears  had  fallen,  with 
a  sudden  movement  she  caught  her  hair 
and  poured  its  lava  on  his  feet. 

An  aroma  of  beckoning  oases  filled  the 
small  room,  passed  into  the  recess,  mount- 
ed to  the  roof,  pervaded  and  penetrated 
it,  and  escaped  to  the  sky  above. 

And  still  she  wept.  Judas  no  longer 
saw  her  tears,  he  heard  them.  They  fell 
swiftly  one  after  another,  like  the  ripple 
of  the  rain.  A  sob  broke  from  her,  but 
in  it  was  something  which  foretokened 
peace,  the  sob  which  comes  to  those  who 
have  conceived  a  despairing  hope,  and 
suddenly  intercept  its  fulfilment.  Her 
hands  trembled ;  the  little  box  fell  from 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  125 

her  and  broke.  The  noise  it  made  exor- 
cised the  silence. 

The  Master  turned  to  his  host.  "  I  have 
a  word  to  say  to  you." 

Simon  stroked  his  beard  and  bowed. 

"There  was  once  a  man  who  had  two 
debtors.  One  owed  him  five  hundred 
pence,  the  other  fifty.  Both  were  poor, 
and  because  of  their  poverty  the  debt  of 
each  he  forgave." 

For  an  instant  Jesus  paused  and  seemed 
to  muse ;  then,  with  that  indulgence  which 
was  to  illuminate  the  world,  "Tell  me, 
Simon,"  he  inquired,  "which  was  the 
more  grateful  ?  " 

Simon  assumed  an  air  of  perplexity, 
and  glanced  cunningly  from  one  guest  to 
another.  Presently  he  laughed  outright. 

"  Why,  the  one  who  owed  the  most,  of 
course." 

Reulah  suppressed  a  giggle.  By  the 
expression  of  the  others  it  was  patent  that 
to  them  also  the  jest  appealed.  Only 
Judas  did  not  seem  to  have  heard ;  he  sat 
bolt  upright,  fumbling  Mary  with  his 
violent  eyes. 


126  MART  MAGDALEN. 

The  Master  made  a  gesture  of  assent, 
and  turned  to  where  Mary  crouched.  She 
was  staring  at  him  with  that  look  which 
the  magnetized  share  with  animals. 

"You  see  her?" 

Straightening  himself,  he  leaned  on  his 
elbow  and  scrutinized  his  host 

"Simon,  I  am  your  guest.  When  I 
entered  here  there  was  no  kiss  to  greet 
me,  there  was  no  oil  for  my  head,  no  water 
for  my  feet.  But  this  woman  whom  you 
despise  has  not  ceased  to  embrace  them. 
She  has  washed  them  with  her  tears, 
anointed  them  with  nard,  and  dried  them 
with  her  hair.  Her  sins,  it  may  be,  are 
many,  but,  Simon,  they  are  forgiven " 

Simon,  Reulah,  the  others,  muttered 
querulously.  To  forgive  sins  was  indeed 
an  attribute  which  no  one,  save  the  Eter- 
nal, could  arrogate  to  himself. 

" — for  she  has  loved  much." 

And  turning  again  to  Mary,  who  still 
crouched  at  his  side,  he  added : 

"Tour  sins  are  forgiven.  Go  now,  and 
in  peace." 

But  the  fierce  surprise  of  the  Pharisees 


MART  MAGDALEN.  127 

was  not  to  be  shocked  into  silence. 
Beulah  showed  his  teeth;  they  were 
pointed  and  treacherous  as  a  jackal's. 
Simon  loudly  asserted  disapproval  and 
wonder  too. 

"  I  am  amazed "  he  began. 

The  Master  checked  him : 

"  The  beginning  of  truth  is  amazement. 
Wonder,  then,  at  what  you  see ;  for  he  that 
wonders  shall  reign,  and  he  that  reigns 
shall  rest." 

The  music  of  his  voice  heightened  the 
beauty  of  the  speech.  On  Mary  it  fell 
and  rested  as  had  the  touch  of  his  hand. 

"  Messiah,  my  Lord !  "  she  cried.  "  In 
your  breast  is  the  future,  in  your  heart 
the  confidence  of  God.  Let  me  but  tell 
you.  There  are  those  that  live  whose 
lives  are  passed ;  the  tombs  do  not  hold 
all  of  those  that  are  dead.  I  was  dead ; 
you  brought  me  to  life.  I  had  no  con- 
science; you  gave  me  one,  for  I  was  dead," 
she  insisted.  "  And  yet,"  she  added,  with 
a  little  moan,  so  human,  so  sincere,  that  it 
might  have  stirred  a  Caesar,  let  alone  a 


128  MART  MAGDALEN. 

Christ,  "  not  wholly  dead.  No,  no,  dear 
Lord,  not  wholly  dead." 

Again  her  tears  gushed  forth,  profuser 
and  more  abundant  than  before  ;  her  frail 
body  shook  with  sobs,  her  fingers  inter- 
twined. 

"  Not  wholly  dead,"  she  kept  repeating. 
"  No,  no,  not  wholly  dead." 

Jesus  touched  his  treasurer. 

"  She  is  not  herself.  Lead  her  away ; 
see  her  to  her  home."  And  that  the 
others  might  hear,  and  profit  as  well,  he 
added,  in  a  higher  key,  "  Deference  to  a 
woman  is  always  due." 

And  to  those  words, which  were  to  found 
chivalry  and  banish  the  boor,  Judas  led 
Mary  from  the  room. 


CHAPTEK  VI. 


VI. 

"  ABE  you  better  ?  " 

The  road  that  skirted  the  lake  had 
branched  to  the  left,  and  there  an  easy 
ascent  led  to  the  hill  beyond.  On  both 
sides  were  carpets  of  flowers  and  of  green, 
and  slender  larches  that  held  their  arms 
and  hid  the  sky.  Above,  an  eagle  cir- 
cled, and  on  the  lake  a  sail  flapped  idly. 

"  Yes,  I  am  better,"  Mary  answered. 

From  her  eyes  the  perils  had  passed, 
but  the  splendors  remained,  accentuated 
now  by  vistas  visible  only  to  herself. 
The  antimony,  too,  with  which  she  dark- 
ened them  had  gone,  and  with  it  the 
alkanet  she  had  used  on  her  cheeks. 
Her  dress  was  olive,  and,  contrary  to 
custom,  her  head  uncovered. 

"  You  are  not  strong,  perhaps  ?  " 

As  Judas  spoke,   he   thought  of  the 

181 


132  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

episode  in  the  synagogue,  and  wished  her 
again  unconscious  in  his  arms. 

"I  have  been  so  weak,"  she  murmured. 
And  after  a  moment  she  added :  "  I  am 
tired ;  let  me  sit  awhile." 

The  carpet  of  flowers  and  of  green  in- 
vited, and  presently  Judas  dropped  at 
her  side.  About  his  waist  a  linen  girdle 
had  been  wound  many  times ;  from  it  a 
bag  of  lynx-skin  hung.  The  white  gar- 
ments, the  ample  turban  that  he  wore, 
were  those  of  ordinary  life,  but  in  his 
bearing  was  just  that  evanescent  charm 
which  now  and  then  the  Oriental  pos- 
sesses— the  subtlety  that  subjugates  and 
does  not  last. 

"But  you  must  be  strong;  we  need 
your  strength." 

Mary  turned  to  him  wonderingly. 

"Yes,"  he  repeated,  "we  need  your 
strength.  Johanna  has  joined  us,  as  you 
know.  Susannah  too.  They  do  what 
they  can  ;  but  we  need  others — we  need 
you." 

"  Do  you  mean " 

Something  had  tapped  at   her  heart, 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  133 

something  which  was  both  joy  and  dread, 
and  she  hesitated,  fearing  that  the  possi- 
bility which  Judas  suggested  was  unreal, 
that  she  had  not  heard  his  words  aright. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  he  would  let  me  ?  " 

"  He  would  love  you  for  it.  But  then 
he  loves  everyone,  yet  best,  I  think,  his 
enemies." 

"  They  need  it  most,"  Mary  answered ; 
but  her  thoughts  had  wandered. 

"And  I,"  Judas  added — "I  loved  you 
long  ago." 

Then  he  too  hesitated,  as  though  un- 
certain what  next  to  say,  and  glanced  at 
her  covertly.  She  was  looking  across  the 
lake,  over  the  country  of  the  Gadarenes, 
beyond  even  that,  perhaps,  into  some 
infinite  veiled  to  him. 

"I  remember,"  he  continued,  tenta- 
tively, "  it  was  there  at  Tiberias  I  saw 
you  first.  You  were  entering  the  palace. 
I  waited.  The  sentries  ordered  me  off; 
one  threw  a  stone.  I  went  to  where  the 
garden  is  ;  I  thought  you  might  be  among 
the  flowers.  The  wall  was  so  high  I 
pould  not  see.  The  guards  drove  me 


134  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

away.  I  ran  up  the  hill  through  the 
white  and  red  terraces  of  the  grape. 
From  there  I  could  see  the  gardens,  the 
elephants  with  their  ears  painted,  and 
the  oxen  with  the  twisted  horns.  The 
wind  sung  about  me  like  a  flute ;  the 
sky  was  a  tent  of  different  hues.  Some- 
thing within  me  had  sprung  into  life.  It 
was  love,  I  knew.  It  had  come  before, 
yes,  often,  but  never  as  then.  For,"  he 
added,  and  the  gleam  of  his  eyes  was  as 
a  fanfare  to  the  thought  he  was  about  to 
express,  "  love  returns  to  the  heart  as 
the  leaf  returns  to  the  tree." 

Mary  looked  at  him  vacantly.  "  What 
was  he  saying?  "  she  wondered.  From  a 
sea  of  grief  she  seemed  to  be  passing  onto 
an  archipelago  of  dream. 

"The  next  day  I  loitered  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  palace.  You  did  not 
appear.  Toward  evening  I  questioned  a 
gardener.  He  said  your  name  was  Mary, 
but  he  would  tell  me  nothing  else.  On 
the  morrow  was  the  circus.  I  made  sure 
you  would  be  there — with  the  tetrarch,  I 
thought ;  and,  that  I  might  be  near  the 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  135 

tribune,  before  the  sun  had  set  I  was  at 
the  circus  gate.  There  were  others  that 
came  and  waited,  but  I  was  first.  I  re- 
member that  night  as  never  any  since.  I 
lay  outstretched,  and  watched  the  moon ; 
your  face  was  in  it :  it  was  a  dream,  of 
course.  Yes,  the  night  passed  quickly, 
but  the  morning  lagged.  When  the  gate 
was  open,  I  sprang  like  a  zemer  from  tier 
to  tier  until  I  reached  the  tribune. 
There,  close  by,  I  sat  and  waited.  At 
last  you  came,  and  with  you  new  per- 
fumes and  poisons.  Did  you  feel  my 
eyes  ?  they  must  have  burned  into  you. 
But  no,  you  gave  no  heed  to  me.  They 
told  me  afterward  that  Scarlet  won  three 
times.  I  did  not  know.  I  saw  but  you. 
Once  merely  an  abyss  in  which  lightning 
was. 

"  Before  the  last  race  was  done  I  got 
down  and  tried  to  be  near  the  exit 
through  which  I  knew  you  must  pass. 
The  guards  would  not  let  me.  The  next 
day  I  made  friends  with  a  sentry.  He 
told  me  that  you  were  Mir  jam  of  Magdala ; 


136  MART  MAGDALEN. 

that  Tiberius  wished  you  at  Home,  and 
that  you  had  gone  with  Antipas  to  his 
citadel.  In  the  wine-shops  that  night 
men  slunk  from  me  afraid.  A  week  fol- 
lowed of  which  I  knew  nothing,  then 
chance  disentangled  its  threads.  I  found 
myself  in  a  crowd  at  the  base  of  a  hill ; 
a  prophet  was  preaching.  I  had  heard 
prophets  before ;  they  were  as  torches 
in  the  night :  he  was  the  Day.  I  listened 
and  forgot  you.  He  called  me ;  I  fol- 
lowed. Until  Sunday  I  had  not  thought 
of  you  again.  But  when  you  appeared  in 
the  synagogue  I  started ;  and  when  you 
fainted,  when  I  held  you  in  my  arms  and 
your  eyes  opened  as  flowers  do,  I  looked 
into  them  and  it  all  returned.  Mary,  kiss 
me  and  kill  me,  but  kiss  me  first." 

"  Yes,  he  is  the  Day." 

Of  the  entire  speech  she  had  heard 
but  thai  It  had  entered  perhaps  into 
thoughts  of  her  own  with  which  it  was 
in  unison,  and  she  repeated  the  phrase 
mechanically,  as  a  child  might  do.  But 
now  as  he  ceased  to  speak,  perplexed, 


MART  MAGDALEN.  137 

annoyed  too  at  the  inappositeness  of  her 
reply,  she  came  back  from  the  infinite  in 
which  she  had  roamed,  and  for  a  moment 
both  were  silent. 

At  the  turning  of  the  road  a  man  ap- 
peared. At  the  sight  of  Judas  he  halted, 
then  called  him  excitedly  by  name. 

"  It  is  Mathias,"  Judas  muttered,  and 
got  to  his  feet.  The  man  hurried  to 
them.  He  was  broad  of  shoulder  and  of 
girth,  the  jaw  lank  and  earnest.  His 
eyes  were  small,  and  the  lids  twitched 
nervously.  He  was  out  of  breath,  and 
his  garments  were  dust-covered. 

"  Where  is  the  Master  ?  "  he  asked ;  and 
at  once,  without  waiting  a  reply,  he  added: 
"I  have  just  seen  Johanna.  Her  hus- 
band told  her  that  the  tetrarch  is  seeking 
him  ;  he  thinks  him  John,  and  would  do 
him  harm.  We  must  go  from  here." 

Judas  assented.  "  Yes,  we  must  all 
go.  Mary,  it  may  be  a  penance,  but  it  is 
his  will." 

Mathias  gazed  inquiringly  at  them 
both. 


138  MART  MAGDALEN. 

"  It  is  his  will,"  Judas  repeated,  author- 
itatively. 

Mary  turned  away  and  caught  her 
forehead  in  her  hands.  "If  this  is  a 
penance,"  she  murmured,  "  what  then  are 
his  rewards  ?  " 


CHAPTEE  VII. 


VII 

ON  the  floor  of  a  little  room  Mary  lay, 
lier  face  to  the  ground.  In  her  ears  was 
the  hideousness  of  a  threat  that  had 
fastened  on  her  abruptly  like  a  cheetah 
in  the  dark.  From  below  came  the 
sound  of  banqueting.  Beyond  was  the 
Bitter  Sea,  the  stars  dancing  in  its  rip- 
ples ;  and  there  in  the  shadow  of  the  ever- 
greens was  the  hut  in  which  that  Sepho- 
rah  lived  to  whom  long  ago  Martha  had 
forbidden  her  to  speak.  Through  the 
lattice  came  the  scent  of  olive-trees,  and 
with  it  the  irresistible  breath  of  spring. 

In  its  caress  the  threat  which  had 
made  her  its  own  presently  was  lifted, 
and  mingling  with  other  things  fused  into 
them.  The  kaleidoscope  of  time  and 

events  which  visits    those    that    drown 

141 


142  MART  MAGDALEN. 

possessed  her,  and  for  a  second  Mary  re- 
lived a  year. 

There  had  been  the  sudden  flight  from 
Magdala,  the  first  days  with  the  Master, 
the  gorges  of  the  Jordan,  the  journey  to 
the  coast,  the  glittering  green  scales  of 
that  hydra  the  sea.  Then  the  loiterings 
on  the  banks  of  the  sacred  Leontes,  the 
journey  back  to  Galilee,  the  momentary 
halt  at  Magdala,  the  sail  past  Bethsai'da, 
Capharnahum,  Chorazin,  the  fording  of 
the  river,  the  trip  to  Caesarea  Philippi, 
the  snow  and  gold  of  Hermon,  the  visit 
to  Gennesareth,  the  pilgrimage  to  Jeru- 
salem, and  the  return  to  Bethany. 

Her  recollections  intercrossed,  scenes 
that  were  trivial  ousted  others  that  were 
grave ;  the  purple  limpets  of  Sidon,  the 
shrine  of  Ashtaroth,  the  invective  at 
Bethsaida,  the  transfiguration  on  the 
mountain  height,  the  cure  of  lepers,  and 
the  presence  that  coerced.  Yet  through 
them  all  certain  things  remained  immu- 
table, and  of  these,  primarily  her  contact 
with  the  Christ 

To  her,  Jesus  was  not  the  Son  of  man 


MART  MAGDALEN.  143 

alone,  he  was  the  light  of  this  world,  the 
usher  of  the  next.  When  he  spoke,  there 
came  to  her  a  sense  of  frightened  joy  so 
acute  that  the  hypostatical  union  which 
left  even  the  disciples  perplexed  was  by 
her  realized  and  understood.  She  had 
the  faith  of  a  little  child.  And  on  the 
hills  and  through  the  intervales  over 
which  they  journeyed,  in  the  glare  of 
the  eager  sun  or  beneath  the  wattled 
boughs,  the  emanations  of  the  Divine 
filled  her  with  transports  so  contagious 
that  they  affected  even  Thomas,  who  was 
skeptical  by  birth ;  and  when,  after  the 
descent  from  Hermon,  two  or  three  of  the 
disciples  mused  together  over  the  specta- 
cle which  they  had  seen,  the  rhyme  of  her 
lips  parted  ineffably.  She  too  had  seen 
him  aureoled  with  the  sun,  dazzling  as 
the  snow-fields  on  the  heights.  To  her 
it  was  ever  in  that  aspect  he  appeared, 
with  a  radiance  so  intense  even  that  there 
had  been  moments  in  which  she  had 
veiled  her  eyes  as  from  a  light  that  only 
eagles  could  support.  To  her,  marvels 
were  as  natural  as  the  escape  of  night. 


144  MART  MAGDALEN. 

At  Beth-Sean  she  had  heard  him  speak 
to  dumb  beasts,  and  never  doubted  but 
that  they  answered  him.  At  Dan  she 
had  seen  a  short-eared  hare  rush  to  him 
for  refuge,  and  follow  him  afterwards  as 
a  dog  might  do.  At  Kinnereth  he  had 
called  to  a  lark  that  from  a  tree-top  was 
pouring  its  heart  out  to  the  morning,  and 
the  lark  had  fluttered  down  and  nestled 
in  his  hand.  At  Gadara  he  had  tamed 
wild  doves,  and  a  swarm  of  bees  had 
stopped  and  glistened  in  his  hair.  At 
Csesarea,  when  he  began  to  speak,  the 
thrushes  that  had  been  singing  ceased ; 
and  when  the  parables  were  delivered, 
began  anew,  louder,  more  jubilant  than 
before,  and  continued  to  sing  until  he 
blessed  them,  when  they  mounted  in  one 
long  ascending  line  straight  to  the  zenith 
above.  At  his  approach  the  little  gold- 
bellied  fish  of  the  Leontes  had  leaped 
from  the  stream.  In  the  suburbs  of 
Sidon  the  jackals  had  fawned  at  his  feet. 
The  underbrush  had  parted  to  let  him 
pass,  and  where  he  passed  white  roses 
came  and  the  tenderness  of  anemones. 


MART  MAGDALEN.  145 

At  times  he  seemed  to  her  immaterial  as 
a  shadow  in  a  dream,  at  others  appalling 
as  the  desert ;  and  once  when,  in  prayer, 
she  entered  with  him  into  the  intimacy  of 
the  infinite,  she  caught  the  shiver  of  an 
invisible  harp  whose  notes  seemed  to  fall 
from  the  night.  And  as  she  journeyed,  her 
love  expanded  with  the  horizon.  She 
loved  with  a  love  no  woman's  heart  has 
transcended.  In  its  prodigality  and  as- 
cending gammes  there  was  place  for 
nothing  save  the  Ideal. 

The  little  band  meanwhile  lived  as 
strangers  on  earth.  Out  of  her  abundant 
means  their  simple  wants  were  supplied. 
She  was  less  a  burden  than  a  sustenance ; 
her  faith  bridged  many  a  doubtful  hour ; 
and  when,  as  often  occurred,  they  dis- 
puted among  themselves  concerning  their 
future  rank  and  precedence,  Mary 
dreamed  of  a  paradise  more  pure. 

One  evening,  near  the  rushes  of  Lake 
Phiala,  where  the  Jordan  leaps  anew  to 
the  light,  a  Greek  merchant  who  had  re- 
fused them  shelter  at  Seleucia  ambled 
that  way  on  an  ass,  and  would  have 


146  MART  MAGDALEN. 

stopped,  perhaps,  but  one  of  the  band 
scoffed  him,  and  he  rode  on,  and  disap- 
peared in  the  haze  of  the  hills. 

Unobserved,  the  Master  had  seen  and 
heard  ;  presently  he  called  them  to  where 
he  stood. 

"  Do  not  think,"  he  admonished — "  do 
not  think  that  because  you  imitate  the 
Pharisees  you  are  perfecting  your  lives. 
They  fast,  they  pray,  they  weep,  and  they 
mortify  the  flesh  ;  but  to  them  one  thing 
is  impossible,  charity  to  the  failings  of 
others.  Whoso  then  shall  come  to  you, 
be  he  friend  or  foe,  penitent  or  thief,  re- 
ceive him  kindly.  Aid  the  helpless,  con- 
sole the  unfortunate,  forgive  your  enemy, 
and  forget  yourselves — that  is  charity. 
Without  it  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  lost 
to  you.  There,  there  is  neither  Greek 
nor  Jew,  male  nor  female ;  nor  can  it  come 
to  you  until  the  garment  of  shame  is 
trampled  under  foot,  until  two  are  as 
one,  and  the  body  which  is  without  is  as 
the  soul  within." 

Thereat,  with  a  gesture  of  exquisite  in- 


MART  MAGDALEN.  147 

dulgence,  he  turned  and  left  them  to  the 
stars. 

Mary  had  heard,  and  in  the  palingene- 
sis disclosed  she  saw  space  wrapped  in 
a  luminous  atmosphere,  such  as  she  fan- 
cied lay  behind  the  sun.  There,  instead 
of  the  thrones  and  diadems  of  the  elect, 
was  an  immutable  realm  in  which  there 
was  neither  death  nor  life,  clear  ether 
merely,  charged  with  beatitudes.  And  so, 
when  the  disciples  disputed  among  them- 
selves, Mary  dreamed  of  diaphanous 
hours  and  immaculate  days  that  knew 
no  night,  and  in  this  wise  lived  until 
from  the  terrace  of  Jerusalem's  Temple 
the  Master  bade  her  return  to  Bethany 
and  wait  him  there. 

Obedience  to  that  command  was  bitter 
to  her.  She  did  not  murmur,  however. 
"Kabboni,"  she  cried,  "let  me  but  do 
your  will  on  earth,  and  afterwards  save 
me  or  destroy  me  as  your  pleasure  is." 

With  that  she  had  gone  to  her  sister's 
house,  and  to  the  bewildered  Martha 
poured  out  her  heart  anew.  There  could 
be  no  question  of  forgiveness  now,  of 


148  MART  MAGDALEN. 

penitence  even ;  her  sins,  such  as  they 
were,  had  been  remitted  by  one  to  whom 
pardon  was  an  attribute.  And  this  doubt- 
less Martha  understood,  for  she  took  her 
in  her  arms  unreproachfully  and  mingled 
her  tears  with  hers. 

Where  all  is  marvel  the  marvellous  dis- 
appears. To  the  accounts  which  Mary 
gave  of  her  journeys  with  the  little 
band  that  followed  the  Master,  Martha 
listened  with  an  attention  which  noth- 
ing could  distract.  With  her  she  sailed 
on  the  lovely  lake  ;  with  her  she  visited 
cities  smothering  in  the  scent  of  cassia 
and  of  sugar-cane  ;  with  her  she  passed 
through  glens  where  panthers  prowled, 
and  bandits  crueller  than  they.  With 
her  eyes  she  saw  the  listening  multi- 
tudes, with  her  ears  she  heard  again  the 
words  of  divine  forgiveness ;  and,  the  lulab 
and  the  citron  in  her  hands,  she  assisted 
at  the  Feast  of  the  Tabernacles,  and 
watched  the  vain  attempt  to  charm  the 
recalcitrant  Temple  and  captivate  the 
inimical  town. 

For  in  Jerusalem,  in  place  of  the  re- 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  149 

assuring  confidence  of  peasants,  was  the 
irritable  incredulity  of  priests  ;  instead 
of  meadows,  courts.  Besides,  was  not  this 
prophet  from  Galilee,  and  what  good  had 
ever  come  from  there?  Then,  too,  he 
was  not  an  authorized  teacher.  He  be- 
longed to  no  school.  The  followers  of 
Hillel,  the  disciples  of  Shammai,  did  not 
recognize  him.  He  was  merely  a  frac- 
tious Nazarene  trained  in  the  shop  of  a 
carpenter ;  one  who,  by  repeating  that 
it  was  easier  for  a  camel  to  pass  through 
a  needle's  eye  than  for  a  rich  man  to 
enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  flattered 
basely  the  mob  of  mendicants  that  sur- 
rounded him.  The  rabble  admired,  but 
the  clergy  stood  aloof.  When  he  was  not 
ignored  he  was  disdained.  Save  the  pleb, 
no  one  listened. 

Presently  he  spoke  louder.  Into  the 
grave  music  of  the  Syro-Chaldaic  tongue 
he  put  the  mutterings  of  thunder.  Where 
he  had  preached,  he  upbraided ;  in  place 
of  exquisite  parables  came  sonorous 
threats.  He  blessed  but  rarely,  some- 
times he  cursed.  That  mosaic,  the  Law, 


150  MART  MAGDALEN. 

he  treated  like  a  cobweb ;  and  to  the  ar- 
rogant clergy  a  rumor  filtered  that  this 
vagabond,  who  had  not  where  to  lay  his 
head,  declared  his  ability  to  destroy  the 
Temple,  and  to  rebuild  it,  in  three  days, 
anew. 

A  rumor  such  as  that  was  incredible. 
Inquiries  were  made.  The  rumor  was 
substantiated.  It  was  learned  that  he 
healed  the  sick,  cured  the  blind ;  that  he 
was  in  league,  perhaps,  with  the  Phari- 
sees. 

The  Sanhedrim  took  counsel.  They 
were  Sadducees  every  one.  The  Pharisees 
were  their  hereditary  foes.  Both  were 
militant,  directing  men  and  things  as  best 
they  could.  The  Sadducees  held  strictly  to 
the  letter  of  the  Law ;  the  Pharisees  held 
to  the  Law,  and  to  tradition  as  well.  But 
the  Sadducees  were  in  power,  the  Phar- 
isees were  not.  The  former  endeavored 
in  every  way  to  maintain  their  authority 
over  the  people ;  and  against  that  au- 
thority, against  the  aristocracy,  the  priest- 
hood, and  the  accomplices  of  foreign  do- 
minion, the  Pharisees  ceaselessly  excited 


MART  MAGDALEN.  151 

the  mob.  In  their  inability  to  overthrow 
the  pontificate,  they  undermined  it  With 
microscopic  attention  they  examined  and 
criticised  every  act  of  the  clergy;  and, 
with  a  view  of  showing  the  incompetence 
of  the  priests,  they  affected  rigid  theories 
in  regard  to  ritualistic  points.  Every 
detail  of  the  ceremonial  ofifice  was  watched 
by  them  with  eyes  that  were  never  pleased. 
They  asserted  that  the  rolls  of  the  Law 
from  which  the  priests  read  the  Penta- 
teuch were  made  of  impure  matter,  and, 
having  handled  them,  the  priests  had 
become  impure  as  well.  The  manner  in 
which  the  incense  was  made  and  offered, 
the  minutiae  governing  the  sacrifices,  the 
legality  of  hierarchal  decisions — on  each 
and  every  possible  subject  they  exerted 
themselves  to  show  the  unworthiness  of 
the  officiants,  insinuating  even  that  the 
names  of  the  fathers  of  many  of  the 
priests  were  not  inscribed  at  Zipporim 
in  the  archives  of  Jeshana.  As  a  conse- 
quence, many  of  those  whose  rights  the 
Pharisees  affected  to  uphold  saw  in  the 
hierarchy  little  more  than  a  body  of  men 


152  MART  MAGDALEN. 

unworthy  to  approach  the  altar,  a  group 
of  Herodians  who  in  religion  lacked  every 
requisite  for  the  service  of  God,  and  who 
in  public  and  in  private  were  bankrupts  in 
patriotism,  morality,  and  shame. 

The  possibility,  therefore,  that  this 
fractious  demagogue  had  found  favor 
with  the  Pharisees  was  grave.  He  was 
becoming  a  force.  He  threatened  many 
a  prerogative.  Moreover,  Jerusalem  had 
had  enough  of  agitators.  People  were 
drawn  by  their  promises  into  the  soli- 
tudes, and  there  incited  to  revolt.  Home 
did  not  look  upon  these  things  leniently. 
If  they  continued,  Tiberius  was  quite  ca- 
pable of  putting  Judaea  in  a  yoke  which 
it  would  not  be  easy  to  carry.  Clearly 
the  Nazarene  was  seditious,  and  as  such 
to  be  abolished.  The  difficulty  was  to 
abolish  him  and  yet  conciliate  the  mob. 

It  was  then  that  the  Sanhedrim  took 
counsel.  As  a  result,  and  with  the  hope 
of  entrapping  him  into  some  blasphemous 
utterance  on  which  a  charge  would  lie, 
they  sent  meek-eyed  Scribes  to  question 
him  concerning  the  authority  that  he 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  153 

claimed.  He  routed  the  meek-eyed 
Scribes.  Then,  fancying  that  he  might 
be  seduced  into  some  expression  which 
could  be  construed  as  treason,  they  sent 
young  and  earnest  men  to  learn  from  him 
their  duty  to  Rome.  The  young  and 
earnest  men  returned  crestfallen  and 
abashed. 

The  elders,  nonplussed,  debated.  A 
levite  suspected  that  the  casuistry  and 
marvellous  cures  of  the  Nazarene  must 
be  due  to  a  knowledge  of  the  incommuni- 
cable name,  Shemhammephorash,  seared 
on  stone  in  the  thunders  of  Sinai,  and 
which  to  utter  was  to  summon  life  or 
beckon  death.  Another  had  heard  that 
while  in  Galilee  he  was  believed  to  be  in 
league  with  Baal-Zebub,  Lord  of  Flies. 

To  this  gossip  no  attention  was  paid. 
Annas,  merely  —  the  old  high-priest, 
father-in-law  of  Caiaphas,  who  officiated 
in  his  stead — laughed  to  himself.  There 
was  no  such  stone,  there  was  no  such  god. 
Another  idea  had  been  welcomed.  A 
festival  was  in  progress ;  there  was  gayety 
in  the  neighborhood,  drinking  too ;  and 


154  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

as  over  a  million  of  pilgrims  were  herded 
together,  now  and  then  an  offence  oc- 
curred. The  previous  night,  for  instance, 
a  woman  had  been  arrested  for  illicit  com- 
merce. 

Annas  tapped  on  his  chin.  He  had  the 
pompous  air  of  a  chameleon,  the  same 
long,  thin  lips,  the  large,  protruding  eyes. 

"Take  her  before  the  Galilean,"  he 
said.  "  He  claims  to  be  a  rabbi ;  he  must 
know  the  Law.  If  he  acquit  her,  it  is 
heresy,  and  for  that  a  charge  will  lie. 
Does  he  condemn  her  he  is  at  our  mercy, 
for  he  will  have  alienated  the  mob." 

A  smile  of  perfect  understanding  passed 
like  a  vagrant  breeze  across  the  faces  of 
the  elders,  and  the  levites  were  ordered 
to  lead  the  prisoner  to  the  Christ. 

They  found  him  in  the  Woman's  Court. 
From  a  lateral  chamber  a  priest,  unfit  for 
other  than  menial  services  because  of  a 
carbuncle  on  his  lip,  dropped  the  wood 
he  was  sorting  for  the  altar  and  gazed 
curiously  at  the  advancing  throng,  in 
which  the  prisoner  was. 

She  must  have  been  very  fair,  but  now 


MART  MAGDALEN.  155 

her  features  were  distorted  with  anguish, 
veiled  with  shame.  The  blue  robe  she 
wore  was  torn,  and  a  sleeve  rent  to  the 
shoulder  disclosed  a  bare  white  arm. 
She  was  a  wife,  a  mother  too.  Her  name 
was  Ahulah ;  her  husband  was  a  shoe- 
maker. At  the  Gannath  Gate,  where  her 
home  was,  were  two  little  children.  She 
worshipped  them,  and  her  husband  she 
adored.  Some  hallucination,  a  tremor  of 
the  flesh,  the  flush  of  wine,  and  there,  cir- 
cled by  a  leering  crowd,  she  crouched,  her 
life  disgraced,  irrecoverable  for  evermore. 
The  charge  was  made,  the  usual  ques- 
tion propounded.  The  Master  had 
glanced  at  her  but  once.  He  seemed  to 
be  looking  afar,  beyond  the  Temple  and 
its  terraces,  beyond  the  horizon  itself. 
But  the  accusers  were  impatient.  He  bent 
forward  and  with  a  finger  wrote  on  the 
ground.  The  letters  were  illegible,  per- 
haps, yet  the  symbol  of  obliteration  was 
in  that  dust  which  the  morrow  would  dis- 
perse. Again  he  wrote,  but  the  charge 
was  repeated,  louder,  more  impatiently 
than  before. 


156  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

Jesus  straightened  himself.  With  the 
weary  indulgence  of  one  to  whom  hearts 
are  as  books,  he  looked  about  him,  then 
to  the  dome  above. 

"  Whoever  is  without  sin  among  you," 
he  declared,  "  may  cast  the  first  stone." 

When  he  looked  again  the  crowd  had 
slunk  away.  Only  Ahulah  remained,  her 
head  bowed  on  her  bare  white  arm. 
From  the  lateral  chamber  the  priest  still 
peered,  the  carbuncle  glistening  on  his 
lip. 

"  Did  none  condemn  you  ?  "  the  Master 
asked. 

And  as  she  sobbed  merely,  he  added : 
"Neither  do  I  condemn  you.  Go,  and 
sin  no  more." 

To  the  elders  this  was  very  discomfort- 
ing. They  had  failed  to  unmask  him  as 
a  traitor  to  God,  to  Rome  even,  or  yet  as 
a  demagogue  defying  the  Law.  They  did 
not  care  to  question  again.  He  had 
worsted  them  three  times.  Nor  could 
they  without  due  cause  arrest  him,  for 
there  were  the  Pharisees.  Besides,  a  re- 
ligious trial  was  full  of  risk,  and  the 


MART  MAGDALEN.  157 

cooperation  of  the  procurator  not  readily 
to  be  relied  on.  It  was  that  cooperation 
they  needed  most,  for  with  it  such  feeling 
as  might  be  aroused  would  fall  on  Home 
and  not  on  them.  As  for  Pilate,  he  could 
put  a  sword  in  front  of  what  he  said. 

In  their  enforced  inaction  they  got 
behind  that  wall  of  prejudice  where  they 
and  their  kin  feel  most  secure,  and  there 
waited,  prepared  at  the  first  opportunity 
to  invoke  the  laws  of  their  ancestors, 
laws  so  cumbersome  and  complex  that 
the  Komans,  accustomed  to  the  clearest 
pandects,  had  laughed  and  left  them, 
erasing  only  the  right  to  kill. 

At  last  chance  smiled.  Into  Jerusalem 
a  rumor  filtered  that  the  Nazarene  they 
hated  so  had  raised  the  dead,  that  the 
suburbs  hailed  him  as  the  Messiah,  and 
that  he  proclaimed  himself  the  Son  of 
God.  At  once  the  Sanhedrim  reassem- 
bled. A  political  deliverer  they  might 
have  welcomed,  but  in  a  Messiah  they 
had  little  faith.  The  very  fact  of  his 
Messiahship  constituted  him  a  claimant 
to  the  Jewish  throne,  and  as  such  a  pre- 


158  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

tender  with  whom  Pilate  could  deal. 
Moreover — and  here  was  the  point — to 
claim  divinity  was  to  attack  the  unity  oi 
God.  Of  impious  blasphemy  there  was 
no  higher  form. 

It  were  better,  Annas  suggested,  that 
a  man  should  die  than  that  a  nation 
should  perish — a  truism,  surely,  not  to 
be  gainsaid. 

That  night  it  was  decided  that  Jesus 
and  Judaism  could  not  live  together;  a 
price  was  placed  upon  his  head,  and  to 
the  blare  of  four  hundred  trumpets  ex- 
communication was  pronounced. 

Of  all  of  these  incidents  save  the 
last  Mary  had  been  necessarily  aware. 
In  company  with  Johanna,  the  wife  of 
Herod's  steward,  Mary,  wife  of  Clopas, 
and  Salome,  mother  of  Zebedee's  children, 
she  had  heard  him  reiterate  the  burning 
words  of  Jeremiah,  and  seen  him  purge 
the  Temple  of  its  traffickers;  she  had 
heard,  too,  the  esoteric  proclamation, 
"  Before  Abraham  was,  I  am  ; "  and  she 
had  seen  him  lash  the  Sadducees  with 
invective.  She  had  been  present  when  a 


MART  MAGDALEN.  159 

letter  was  brought  from  Abgar  Uchomo, 
King  of  Edessa,  to  Jesus,  "the  good 
Kedeemer,"  in  which  the  potentate  prayed 
the  prophet  to  come  and  heal  him  of  a 
sickness  which  he  had,  offering  him  a 
refuge  from  the  Jews,  and  quaintly  setting 
forth  the  writer's  belief  that  Jesus  was 
God  or  else  His  Son.  She  had  been 
present,  also,  when  the  charge  was  made 
against  Ahulah,  and  had  comforted  that 
unfortunate  in  womanly  ways.  "  Surely," 
she  had  said,  "if  the  Master  who  does 
not  love  you  can  forgive,  how  much  more 
readily  must  your  husband  who  does ! " 
Whereupon  Ahulah  had  become  her 
slave,  tending  her  thereafter  with  almost 
bestial  devotion. 

These  episodes,  one  after  another, 
she  related  to  Martha ;  to  Eleazer,  her 
brother ;  to  Simon,  Martha's  husband  ;  to 
anyone  that  chanced  that  way.  For  it 
was  then  that  the  Master  had  bade  her 
go  to  Bethany.  For  a  little  space  he 
too  had  forsaken  Jerusalem.  Now  and 
then  with  some  of  his  followers  he  would 
venture  in  the  neighborhood,  yet  only  to 


160  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

be  off  again  through  the  scorched  hollows 
of  the  Ghor  before  the  sun  was  up. 

These  things  it  was  that  paraded  be- 
fore her  as  she  lay  on  the  floor  of  the 
little  room,  felled  by  the  hideousness 
of  a  threat  that  had  sprung  upon  her, 
abruptly,  like  a  cheetah  in  the  dark.  To 
Martha  and  to  the  others  on  one  subject 
alone  had  she  been  silent,  and  now  at  the 
moment  it  dominated  all  else. 

From  the  day  on  which  she  joined  the 
little  band  to  whom  the  future  was  to 
give  half  of  this  world  and  all  of  the 
next,  Judas  had  been  ever  at  her  ear. 
As  a  door  that  opens  and  shuts  at  the 
will  of  a  hand,  his  presence  and  absence 
had  barred  the  vistas  or  left  them  clear. 
At  first  he  had  affected  her  as  a  scara- 
bseus  affects  the  rose.  She  knew  of  him, 
and  that  was  all.  When  he  spoke,  she 
thought  of  other  things.  And  as  the 
blind  remain  unawakened  by  the  day,  he 
never  saw  that  where  the  wanton  had 
been  the  saint  had  come.  To  him  she 
was  a  book  of  ivory  bound  in  gold,  whose 
contents  he  longed  to  possess ;  she  was  a 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  161 

book,  but  one  from  which  whole  chapters 
had  been  torn,  the  preface  destroyed ; 
and  when  his  increasing  insistence  forced 
itself  upon  her,  demanding,  obviously, 
countenance  or  rebuke,  she  walked  se- 
renely on  her  way,  disdaining  either,  oc- 
cupied with  higher  things.  It  was  of  the 
Master  only  that  she  appeared  to  think. 
When  he  spoke,  it  was  to  her  as  though 
God  really  lived  on  earth ;  her  eyes 
lighted  ineffably,  and  visibly  all  else  was 
instantly  forgot.  At  that  time  her  life 
was  a  dream  into  whose  charmed  pre- 
cincts a  bat  had  flown. 

These  things,  gradually,  Judas  must 
have  understood.  In  Mary's  eyes  he 
may  have  caught  the  intimation  that  to 
her  now  only  the  ideal  was  real ;  or  the 
idea  may  have  visited  him  that  in  the 
infinite  of  her  faith  he  disappeared  and 
ceased  to  be.  In  any  event  he  must  have 
taken  counsel  with  himself,  for  one  day 
he  approached  her  with  a  newer  theme. 

"  I  have  knocked  on  the  tombs  ;  they 
are  dumb." 

Mary,  with   that  grace  with  which  a 


162  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

woman  gathers  a  flower  when  thinking 
of  him  whom  she  loves,  bent  a  little  and 
turned  away. 

"  Have  you  heard  of  the  Buddha?"  he 
asked.  "  Babylon  is  peopled  with  his 
disciples.  One  of  them  met  Jesus  in  the 
desert,  and  taught  him  his  belief.  It  is 
that  he  preaches  now,  only  the  Buddha 
did  not  know  of  a  heaven,  for  there  is 
none." 

And  he  added,  after  a  pause :  "  I  tell 
you  I  have  knocked  on  the  tombs  ;  there 
is  no  answer  there." 

With  that,  as  a  panther  falls  asleep,  his 
claw  blood-red,  Judas  nodded  and  left 
her  to  her  thoughts. 

"  In  Eternity  there  is  room  for  every- 
thing," she  said,  when  he  came  to  her 
again. 

"  Eternity  is  an  abyss  which  the  tomb 
uses  for  a  sewer,"  he  answered.  "Its 
flood  is  corruption.  The  day  only  exists, 
but  in  it  is  that  freedom  which  waves 
possess.  Mary,  if  you  would  but  taste  it 
with  me !  Oh,  to  mix  with  you  as  light 
with  day,  as  stream  with  sea,  I  would 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  163 

suck  the  flame  that  flickers  on  the  walls 
of  sepulchres." 

She  shuddered,  and  he  saw  it. 

"  You  have  taught  me  to  love,"  he 
hissed ;  "  do  not  teach  me  now  to  hate." 

Mary  mastered  her  revolt.  "Judas, 
the  day  will  come  when  you  will  cease 
to  speak  as  you  do." 

«  You  believe,  then,  still?" 

"  Yes,  surely  ;  and  so  do  you." 

"  The  day  will  come,"  he  muttered, 
"  when  you  will  cease  to  believe." 

"  And  you  too,"  she  answered.  "  For 
then  you  will  know" 

The  dialogue  with  its  variations  con- 
tinued, at  intervals,  for  months.  There 
were  times,  weeks  even,  when  he  avoided 
all  speech  with  her.  Then,  abruptly, 
when  she  expected  it  least,  he  would 
return  more  volcanic  than  before.  These 
attacks  she  accustomed  herself  to  regard 
as  necessary,  perhaps,  to  the  training  of 
patience,  of  charity  too,  and  so  bore  with 
them,  until  at  last  Jerusalem  was  reached. 
Meanwhile  she  held  to  her  trust  as  to  a 
fringe  of  the  mantle  of  Christ.  To  her 


164  MART  MAGDALEN. 

the  past  was  a  grammar,  its  name — To- 
morrow. And  in  the  service  of  the 
Master,  in  the  future  which  he  had  evoked, 
she  journeyed  and  dreamed. 

But  in  Jerusalem  Judas  grew  acrider. 
He  had  fits  of  unnecessary  laughter,  and 
spells  of  the  deepest  melancholy.  He 
quarrelled  with  anyone  who  would  let 
him,  and  then  for  the  irritation  he  had 
displayed  he  would  make  amends  that 
were  wholly  slavish.  His  companions 
distrusted  him.  He  had  been  seen  talk- 
ing amicably  with  the  corrupt  levites,  the 
police  of  the  Temple,  and  once  he  had 
been  detected  in  a  wine-shop  of  low  re- 
pute. The  Master,  apparently,  noticed 
nothing  of  this ;  nor  did  Mary,  whose 
thoughts  were  on  other  things. 

At  Bethany  one  evening  Judas  came  to 
her.  The  sun,  sinking  through  clouds, 
placed  in  the  west  the  tableau  of  a  duel 
to  the  death  between  a  titan  and  a  god. 
There  was  the  glitter  of  gigantic  swords, 
and  the  red  of  immortal  blood. 

"Mary,"  he  began,  and  as  he  spoke 
there  was  a  new  note  in  his  voice — "  Mary, 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  165 

I  have  watched  and  waited,  and  to 
those  that  watch  how  many  lamps 
burn  out !  One  after  another  those  that 
I  tended  went.  There  was  a  flicker,  a 
little  smoke,  and  they  had  gone.  I  tried 
to  relight  them,  but  perhaps  the  oil  was 
spent ;  perhaps,  too,  I  was  like  the  blind 
that  hold  a  torch.  My  way  has  not  been 
clear.  The  faith  I  had,  and  which,  I  do 
not  know,  but  which,  it  may  be,  would 
have  been  strengthened,  evaporated  when 
you  came.  The  rays  of  the  sun  I  had 
revered  became  as  the  threads  of  shad- 
ows, interconnecting  life  and  death.  In 
them  I  could  see  but  you.  In  the  jaw  of 
night,  in  the  teeth  of  day,  always  I  have 
seen  you.  Mary,  love  is  a  net  which 
woman  throws.  In  casting  yours — there  ! 
unintentionally,  I  know — you  caught  my 
soul.  It  is  yours  now  wholly  until  time 
shall  cease  to  be.  Will  you  take  it, 
Mary,  or  will  you  put  it  aside,  a  thing 
forever  dead  ?  " 

Mary  made  no  answer.  It  may  be  she 
had  not  heard.  In  the  west  both  titan 
and  god  had  disappeared.  Above,  in  a  field 


166  MART  MAGDALEN. 

of  stars,  the  moon  hung,  a  scythe  of  gold. 
The  air  was  still,  the  hush  of  locusts  ac- 
centuating the  silence  and  bidding  it  be 
at  rest.  In  a  house  near  by  there  were 
lights  shining.  A  woman  looked  out 
and  called  into  the  night. 

Then,  as  though  moved  by  some  jeal- 
ousy of  the  impalpable,  Judas  leaned  for- 
ward and  peered  into  her  face. 

"  It  is  the  Master  who  keeps  you  from 
me,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  It  is  my  belief,"  she  answered,  sim- 


"  It  was  he  that  gave  it  to  you.  Mary, 
do  you  know  that  there  is  a  price  upon 
his  head  ?  Do  you  know  that  if  I  cannot 
slake  my  love,  at  least  I  can  gorge  my 
hate  ?  Do  you  know  that,  Mary  ?  Do 
you  know  it  ?  Now  choose  between  your 
belief  and  me  ;  if  you  prefer  the  former, 
the  Sanhedrim  will  have  him  to-morrow. 
There,  your  sister  is  calling;  go  —  and 
choose." 

It  was  with  the  hideousness  of  this 
threat  in  her  ears  that  Mary  escaped  to 
the  little  room  where  her  childhood  had 


MART  MAGDALEN.  167 

been  passed  and  flung  herself  on  the 
floor.  From  beyond  came  the  sound  of 
banqueting.  Martha  was  entertaining 
the  Lord,  his  disciples  as  well ;  and  Mary 
knew  that  her  aid  was  needed.  But  the 
threat  pinioned  and  held  her  down.  To 
accede  was  death,  not  of  the  body  aloae, 
but  of  the  soul  as  well.  There  was  no 
clear  pool  in  which  she  might  cleanse  the 
stain ;  there  could  be  no  forgiveness,  no 
obliteration,  nothing  in  fact  save  the  loss 
never  to  be  recovered  of  Ijf e  in  the  diaph- 
anous hours  and  immaculate  days  of 
which  she  had  dreamed  so  long. 

For  a  little  space  she  tried  to  comfort 
herself.  Perhaps  Judas  was  not  in  ear- 
nest ;  perhaps  even  he  had  lied.  And  if  he 
had  not,  was  there  not  time  in  plenty  ? 
The  desert  was  neighborly.  She  could 
follow  the  Master  there,  and  minister  to 
him  till  the  sky  opened  and  the  king- 
dom was  prepared.  And  the  threat, 
coupled  with  that  perspective,  charmed, 
and  for  the  moment  had  for  her  that 
enticement  which  the  quarrels  and  kisses 
of  children  equally  possess.  She  would 


168  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

warn  him  secretly,  she  decided,  for  surely 
as  yet  he  did  not  know ;  she  would  warn 
him,  and  before  the  sun  was  up  he  could 
be  beyond  the  Sanhedrim's  reach,  and 
she  preparing  to  follow.  For  a  moment 
she  lost  herself  in  anticipation;  then, 
the  threat  loosening  its  hold,  she  stood 
up,  her  face  very  white  in  the  starlight, 
her  eyes  brave  and  alert.  Already  her 
plan  was  formed ;  and,  taking  a  vase  that 
she  had  brought  with  her  from  Magdala, 
she  hurried  to  the  room  below. 

The  Master ;  the  disciples ;  Eleazer, 
her  brother  ;  Simon,  her  sister's  husband, 
were  all  at  meat.  Martha  was  serving, 
and  as  Mary  entered  Judas  stood  up. 
She  moved  to  where  the  Master  was,  and 
on  him  poured  the  contents  of  the  vase. 
Thomas  sniffed  delightedly,  for  now  the 
room  was  full  of  fragrance.  The  Master 
turned  to  her  and  smiled;  the  homage 
evidently  was  grateful.  Mary  bent  nearer. 
Thomas  and  Bartholomew  joined  in  loud 
praises  of  the  aroma  of  the  nard,  and 
under  cover  of  their  voices  she  whispered, 


MAE  T  MA  GDALEN.  169 

"  Rabboni,  tlie  Sanhedrim  has  placed  a 
price  on " 

The  whisper  was  drowned  and  inter- 
rupted.  Judas  had  shoved  her  away. 
"  To  what  end  is  this  waste  ?  "  he  asked  ; 
and  as  Mary  looked  in  his  face  she  saw 
by  the  expression  in  it  that  her  purpose 
had  been  divined  and  her  warning  over- 
heard. 

"  It  is  absurd,"  he  continued,  with  af- 
fected anger.  "  Ointment  such  as  that  has 
a  value.  It  might  better  have  been  saved 
for  the  poor." 

Thomas  chimed  in  approvingly  ;  placed 
in  that  light  it  was  indeed  an  extrava- 
gance, unnecessary  too,  and  he  looked 
about  to  his  comrades  for  support.  Eleazer 
and  Peter  seemed  inclined  to  view  the 
matter  differently.  A  discussion  would 
have  arisen,  but  the  Master  checked  it 
gently,  as  was  his  wont. 

"  The  poor  are  always  with  you,  but  me 
you  cannot  always  have." 

As  he  spoke  he  turned  to  Judas  with  that 
indulgence  which  was  to  be  a  heritage. 

Could    he    know  ?      Judas  wondered. 


170  MART  MAGDALEN. 

Had  he  heard  what  Mary  said  ?  And,  the 
Master's  speech  continuing,  he  glanced  at 
her  and  left  the  room. 

The  moon  had  mowed  the  stars,  but  the 
sky  was  visibly  blue.  Behind  the  shoulder 
of  Olivet  he  divined  the  silence  of  Jeru- 
salem, the  welcome  of  the  Sadducees,  the 
joy  of  hate  assuaged.  There  was  but  one 
thing  now  that  might  deter ;  and  as  his 
thoughts  groped  through  that  possibility, 
Mary  stood  at  his  side. 

"Judas " 

He  wheeled,  and,  catching  her  by  the 
wrists,  stared  into  her  eyes. 

"  Is  it  yes  ?  " 

A  shudder  seized  her.  There  was  dread 
in  it,  anguish  too,  and  both  were  mortal. 
He  had  not  lied,  she  saw,  and  the  threat 
was  real. 

"  Is  it  yes  ?  "  he  repeated. 

There  may  be  moments  that  prolong, 
but  there  are  others  in  which  time  no 
longer  is ;  and  as  Mary  shrank  in  the 
blight  of  Judas'  stare,  both  felt  that  the 
culmination  of  life  was  reached. 

"No!" 


MART  MAGDALEN.  171 

The  monosyllable  dropped  from  her 
lips  like  a  stone,  yet  even  as  it  fell  the 
banner  of  Maccabseus  unfurled  and 
flaunted  in  her  face  ;  the  voice  of  Esther 
murmured,  and  a  vision  of  Judith  saving 
a  nation  visited  her,  and,  continuing, 
made  spots  on  the  night. 

Judas  had  flung  her  from  him.  She 
reeled ;  the  violence  roused  her.  Who 
was  she  to  consider  herself  when  the  se- 
curity of  the  Master  was  at  stake  ?  How 
should  it  matter  though  she  died,  if  he 
were  safe  ? 

"It  is  my  soul  you  ask,"  she  cried. 
"Take  it.  If  I  had  a  thousand  souls,  I 
would  give  each  one  for  Him." 

But  she  cried  to  the  unanswering  night. 
Where  the  road  curved  about  the  shoul- 
der of  the  Mount  of  Olives,  for  one  second 
she  saw  a  white  robe  glisten.  Agonized, 
she  called  again,  but  there  was  no  one 
now  to  hear. 

A  little  later,  when  the  followers  of  the 
Lord  issued  from  the  house,  Mary  lay  be- 
fore the  door,  her  eyes  closed,  her  head 
in  the  dust.  They  touched  her.  She  had 
fainted. 


CHAPTEE  VHL 


vin. 

"  THEY  have  him,  they  are  taking  him 
to  Pilate." 

It  was  Eleazer  calling  to  his  sister  from 
the  turn  of  the  road.  In  a  moment  he 
was  at  her  side,  dust-covered,  his  sandals 
torn,  his  pathetic  eyes  dilated.  He  was 
breathless  too,  and,  in  default  of  words, 
with  a  gesture  that  swept  the  Mount  of 
Olives,  he  pointed  to  where  the  holy  city 
lay. 

To  Mary  the  morrow  succeeding  her 
swoon  was  a  pall.  Love,  it  may  be,  is  a 
forgetfulness  of  all  things  else,  but  de- 
spair is  very  actual.  It  takes  a  hold  on 
memory,  inhabits  it,  and  makes  it  its  own. 
And  during  the  day  that  followed,  Mary 
lay  preyed  upon  by  the  acutest  agony 
that  ever  tortured  woman  yet.  Early 
in  the  night,  before  her  senses  returned, 

the  Master  had  gone  without  mentioning 

175 


176  MART  MAGDALEN. 

whither.  His  destination  may  have  been 
Ephraim,  Jericho  even,  or  further  yet,  be- 
yond the  hollows  of  the  Ghor.  Then,again, 
he  might  have  loitered  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, on  the  hill  perhaps,  in  that  open- 
air  solitude  he  loved  so  well,  and  for  which 
so  often  he  forsook  the  narrowness  of 
roofs  and  towns.  But  yet,  in  view  of  the 
Passover,  he  might  have  gone  to  Jerusa- 
lem, and  it  was  that  idea  that  tortured 
most. 

It  was  there  the  keen  police,  the  levites, 
were,  and  their  masters  the  Sadducees, 
who  had  placed  a  price  on  his  head.  Did 
he  get  within  the  walls,  then  surely  he 
was  lost.  At  the  possibilities  which  that 
idea  evoked  her  thoughts  sank  like  the 
roots  of  a  tree  and  grappled  with  the  un- 
der-earth.  To  her  despair,  regret  brought 
its  burden.  A  moment  of  self-forgetful- 
ness,  and,  however  horrible  that  forgetful- 
ness  might  have  been,  in  it  danger  to  him 
whom  she  revered  would  have  been  avert- 
ed, and,  for  the  time  being  at  least,  dis- 
persed utterly  as  last  year's  leaves.  It 
had  been  cowardice  on  her  part  to  let 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  177 

Judas  go  ;  she  should  have  been  strong 
when  strength  was  needed.  There  were 
glaives  to  be  had ;  the  head  of  Holof er- 
nes could  have  greeted  his.  The  legend 
of  Judith  still  echoed  its  reproach,  and 
recurring,  pointed  a  slender  finger  of  dis- 
dain. 

To  the  heart  that  is  sinking,  hope  throws 
a  straw.  Immaterial  and  caressing  as  a 
shadow,  came  to  her  the  fancy  that  if  the 
Master  were  in  the  neighborhood,  at  any 
moment  he  might  appear.  In  that  event 
it  was  needful  that  she  should  be  pre- 
pared to  aid  him  at  once  beyond  the  con- 
fines of  Judaea.  Were  he  already  beyond 
them,  presently  she  must  learn  it,  and 
then  could  warn  him  of  the  danger  of 
return.  But  meanwhile,  for  security's 
sake,  had  he  gone  by  any  chance  to  Je- 
rusalem, some  one  must  be  there  to  warn 
him  of  the  plot.  She  thought  of  her  sis- 
ter, and  dismissed  her.  Martha  was  too 
feather-headed  for  an  errand  such  as  that. 
She  thought  of  Ahulah,but  some  of  those 
well-intentioned  friends  that  everyone 
possesses  had  told  of  the  misadventure 


178  NARY  MAGDALEN. 

to  her  husband,  and  the  latter,  cruel  as  a 
woman,  had  spat  upon  her,  and  now 
through  the  suburbs  she  wandered,  dis- 
traught, incompetent  to  aid.  Her  brother 
occurred  to  her.  It  was  on  him  she  could 
rely.  His  devotion  was  surpassed  only 
by  her  own.  Thereupon  she  sought  him 
out,  instructed  him  in  his  duty,  and  sent 
him  forth  to  watch  and  warn. 

The  green  afternoon  faded  in  the  hem- 
orrhages of  the  setting  sun.  Twilight 
approached  like  a  wolf.  Night  unfurled 
her  great  black  fan ;  the  moon  came, 
fumbling  the  shadows,  checkering  the 
underbrush  with  silver  spots.  Once  a 
caravan  passed,  and  once  from  the  hillside 
came  the  bark  of  a  dog,  caught  up  and 
repeated  in  some  farm  beyond  ;  otherwise 
the  night  was  unstirred ;  and  as  Mary 
stared  into  the  immensities  where  light- 
ning wearies  and  subsides,  a  lethargy 
beset  her,  her  body  was  imprisoned  ;  but 
her  soul  was  free,  and  in  a  moment  it 
mounted  sheerly  to  a  fringe  of  the  heav- 
ens and  bathed  in  space. 

When  it  descended,  another  day  had 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  179 

come,  and  Eleazer  was  calling  to  her  from 
the  turn  of  the  road.  At  once  she  was  on 
earth  and  on  her  feet,  and  as  the  brother 
gasped  for  breath  the  sister's  strength 
returned.  There  must  be  no  more  weak- 
ness now,  she  knew ;  it  was  time  to  act. 
She  got  drink,  water  for  the  feet ;  then 
Eleazer,  refreshed,  continued : 

"  I  ran  through  the  ridge  and  up  to 
where  the  two  cedars  are.  I  looked  among 
the  cypresses  beyond,  in  the  pines 
where  the  descent  begins,  through  the 
olive  groves  below  and  the  booths  and 
tents  beneath.  There  was  no  trace  of 
him  anywhere.  I  crossed  the  brook  and 
sat  awhile  at  the  Shushan  gate,  watching 
those  that  entered.  The  crowd  became 
so  dense  that  it  was  impossible  to  distin- 
guish. I  thought  I  might  hear  of  him 
in  the  Temple.  The  porch  was  thronged. 
I  roamed  through  the  Mountain  of  the 
House  into  the  Woman's  Court,  and  out 
of  it  on  the  Chel.  But  they  were  all  so 
filled  with  pilgrims  that  had  he  been 
there  only  accident  could  have  brought 
me  to  him.  It  was  on  that  I  counted,  and 


180  MART  MAGDALEN. 

I  went  out  on  Zion  and  Acra,  where  the 
crowd  was  less.  It  was  getting  late. 
Beth-horon  was  dim.  I  could  see  lights 
in  Herod's  palace.  Some  one  said  that 
the  tetrarch  of  Galilee  was  there,  the 
guest  of  the  procurator.  I  went  back  by 
way  of  Antonia  to  Birket  Israil  and  the 
Eed  Heifer  Bridge.  I  had  given  up; 
it  seemed  to  me  useless  to  make  further 
attempt.  Suddenly  I  saw  Judas  in  the 
angle  of  the  porch.  With  him  was  a  le- 
vite.  I  got  behind  a  pillar,  near  where 
they  stood,  and  listened.  The  only  thing 
I  distinctly  heard  was  the  name  of  Joseph 
of  Haramathai'm.  I  fancied,  though  I  was 
not  certain,  that  Judas  spoke  as  though 
he  had  just  left  his  house.  They  must 
have  moved  away  then,  for  when  I  looked 
they  had  gone.  I  knew  that  Joseph  was 
a  friend  of  the  Master's,  and  it  struck  me 
that  he  might  be  at  his  house.  It  is  in 
the  sook  of  the  Perfumers,  back  of  Ophel. 
I  ran  there  as  fast  as  I  could.  It  was  un- 
lighted.  I  beat  on  the  door  :  there  was 
no  answer.  I  felt  that  I  had  been  mis- 
taken, anyway  that  I  could  do  no  more. 


MART  MAGDALEN.  181 

I  went  down  again  into  the  valley,  crossed 
the  Kedron,  and  would  have  returned 
here  at  once  perhaps,  but  I  was  tired,  and 
so,  on  the  slope  where  the  olive-presses 
are,  I  lay  down  and  must  have  fallen 
asleep,  for  I  remembered  nothing  till 
there  came  a  tramping  of  men.  I 
crouched  in  the  underbrush.  They  passed 
very  close  ;  some  had  torches,  some  had 
spears.  Judas  was  leading,  and  as  an  ape 
munches  a  flower  he  was  muttering  the 
Master's  name." 

Eleazer  paused  and  looked  at  his  sis- 
ter. She  was  standing  erect,  her  face 
wan,  the  brow  contracted,  the  rhymes  of 
her  lips  tight-pressed.  Then,  with  a  glance 
at  Olivet,  he  continued  : 

"  For  a  little  space  I  waited.  They  had 
ascended  the  slope  and  halted.  There 
was  a  shout,  the  waving  of  torches,  then 
a  silence.  In  it  I  heard  the  Master's 
voice,  followed  by  a  cry  of  pain.  I  hur- 
ried to  where  they  were.  They  had  him 
bound  when  I  got  there.  I  saw  a  soldier 
raising  a  hand  to  his  ear  and  looking  aj; 
the  palm  ;  it  was  red.  Peter  was  running 


182  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

one  way,  Thomas  another.  I  got  nearer. 
Some  one,  a  levite  I  think,  caught  me  by 
the  coat.  I  freed  myself  from  it  and  es- 
caped up  the  hill. 

"From  there  I  looked  down.  They 
were  going  away.  When  they  had  gone, 
I  went  back  and  found  my  cloak.  While 
I  was  putting  it  on,  John  appeared. 
'They  are  taking  him  to  Caiaphas,'  he 
said  ;  '  I  shall  follow.  Come  with  me  if 
you  wish.'  I  went  with  him.  On  the  way 
we  met  Peter ;  he  joined  us.  We  walked 
single-file,  John  leading.  Beyond  I  could 
see  the  lights  of  the  torches,  the  glint  of 
steel.  No  one  spoke.  Peter  whimpered 
a  little.  We  crossed  the  Kedron  and  got 
up  into  the  city.  The  soldiers  went  di- 
rectly to  where  Annas  lives ;  they  entered 
in  a  body,  and  the  door  closed.  John 
rapped :  it  was  opened.  He  said  something 
to  the  doorkeeper,  who  admitted  him. 
The  door  closed  again.  Peter  and  I 
waited  a  little,  not  knowing  where  to  turn. 
Presently  the  door  reopened,  and  John 
motioned  us  to  come  in.  In  the  court 
was  a  fire ;  about  it  were  servants  and 


MART  MAGDALEN.  183 

khazzans.  I  stopped  a  moment  to  warm 
my  hands ;  Peter  did  the  same.  John 
had  disappeared.  I  heard  one  of  the 
khazzans  say  that  they  had  taken  the 
Master  to  Annas,  and  the  others  discuss 
what  he  would  probably  do.  While  I 
stood  there  listening,  and  wondering  what 
had  become  of  John,  I  saw  the  Master 
being  led  across  the  court  to  the  Lishcath 
ha-Gazith.  I  left  Peter,  and  followed. 
In  the  hall  were  the  elders,  ranged  in  a 
semicircle  about  Caiaphas.  They  must 
have  been  prepared  beforehand,  for  the 
clerks  of  acquittal  and  of  condemnation 
were  there,  the  crier  too,  and  a  group  of 
levites  and  Scribes.  In  a  corner  were 
some  of  Annas'  servants.  I  got  among 
them  and  stood  unnoticed. 

"  The  Master's  hands  were  bound.  On 
either  side  of  him  was  a  soldier.  Caia- 
phas was  livid.  He  looked  him  from  head 
to  foot. 

" '  You  are  accused/  he  said,  '  of  incit- 
ing sedition,  of  defying  the  Law,  of  blas- 
phemy, and  of  breaking  the  Sabbath  day. 
What  have  you  to  answer  ? ' 


184  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

"  The  Master  made  no  reply. 

"  Caiaphas  pointed  to  the  levites. 
'Here,'  he  continued,  'are  witnesses.' 

"  He  motioned ;  one  of  them  stepped 
forward  and  spoke. 

" '  I  testify  that  this  man  has  incited 
to  sedition  by  denouncing  the  members 
of  this  reverend  council  as  hypocrites, 
wolves  in  sheep's  clothing,  blind  leaders 
of  the  blind ;  and  I  further  testify  that  he 
has  declared  no  one  should  follow  them.' 

"'What  have  you  to  say  to  that?' 
Caiaphas  snarled.  But  the  Master  said 
nothing. 

"The  first  levite  moved  back,  and  at 
a  gesture  from  the  high-priest  another 
stepped  forward. 

"  *  I  testify  that  I  have  seen  that  man 
eat,  in  defiance  of  the  Law,  with  unwashed 
hands,  and  consort  with  publicans  and 
people  of  low  repute.' 

" '  And  what  have  you  to  say  to  that  ? ' 
Caiaphas  asked  again.  But  still  the 
Master  said  nothing. 

"  The  second  levite  moved  back,  and  a 
third  advanced. 


MAEY  MAGDALEN.  185 

" '  I  testify  that  I  have  heard  that  man 
blaspheme  in  calling  God  his  father,  and 
in  declaring  himself  to  be  one  with  Him.' 

" '  Is  that  blasphemy  or  is  it  not  ? ' 
Caiaphas  bawled.  But  the  Master's  lips 
never  moved. 

"  The  third  levite  gave  way  to  a  fourth. 

"'I  testify  that  that  man  has  broken 
the  Sabbath  in  healing  the  sick  on  that 
day,  and  further  that  he  has  seduced 
others  to  break  it.  On  the  Sabbath  I 
have  heard  him  order  a  cripple  to  take 
up  his  bed  and  carry  it  to  his  home.  I 
have  heard  him  also  declare  that  he  could 
destroy  the  Temple  and  rebuild  it,  in 
three  days,  anew.' 

"  Caiaphas  turned  to  the  Master.  '  Do 
you  still  refuse  to  answer?'  he  asked. 
'Do  you  think  that  silence  can  save  you  ? 
Have  you  heard  these  witnesses  ? ' 

"  And  as  the  Master  still  made  no  re- 
ply, Caiaphas  lifted  his  hand  and  cried, 
*  I  adjure  you  by  the  Eternal  to  answer, 
Are  you  the  Messiah,  the  Son  of  God?  ' 

"  In  the  breathless  silence  Jesus  raised 
his  eyes.  He  looked  at  the  high-priest, 


186  MART  MAGDALEN. 

at  the  levites,  the  Scribes.  'You  have 
said  it,'  he  murmured,  and  smiled  with 
that  air  he  has. 

"  Caiaphas  grew  purple.  He  caught  his 
gown  at  the  throat  and  ripped  it  from  neck 
to  hem.  The  elders  started.  I  heard 
them  mutter,  '  Ish  maveth.'  The  high- 
priest  glanced  toward  them.  '  You  have 
heard  this  ragged  blasphemy?'  he  ex- 
claimed ;  and,  turning  to  where  the  Scribes 
stood,  'What,'  he  asked,  'does  the  Law 
decree  concerning  the  Sabbath-breaker  ? ' 

"  One  of  them,  the  book  unrolled  in  his 
hand,  advanced  and  read  : 

'"Ye  shall  keep  the  Sabbath  holy. 
Whoso  does  any  work  thereon  shall  be 
cut  off  from  his  people.' 

"  *  And  what  of  blasphemy  ? ' 

"The  Scribe  glanced  at  the  roll  and 
repeated  from  memory:  'He  that  blas- 
phemeth  the  name  of  the  Lord  shall  be 
put  to  death.  The  congregation  shall 
stone  him,  as  well  the  stranger  as  he  that 
was  born  in  the  land.' 

"Caiaphas  closed  the  fingers  on  the 
palm  of  his  left  hand,  and,  raising  it, 


MART  MAGDALEN.  187 

turned  again  to  the  elders.  '  Ish  maveth,' 
they  repeated,  closing  their  fingers  as  he 
had  done. 

"  I  knew  then  that  he  was  condemned. 
After  all " — and  Eleazer  looked  wearily  to 
the  ground — "  it  was  legal  enough.  Each 
moment  I  expected  him  to  give  some 
sign,  but,  save  to  affirm  the  charge  of  blas- 
phemy, during  the  entire  time  he  kept 
silent.  Yes,  it  was  legal  enough.  From 
where  I  stood  I  heard  the  Scribes  say 
that  he  would  be  sentenced  at  sunrise, 
and  then  Pilate  would  have  a  word  with 
him.  I  could  do  nothing.  Caiaphas 
still  fumed.  I  went  out  in  the  court 
again.  In  the  corridor  was  Judas.  Pe- 
ter was  wrangling  with  the  servants.  I 
did  not  wait  for  more.  I  got  away  and 
into  the  valley  and  up  again  on  the  hill. 
A  cock  was  crowing,  and  I  saw  the  dawn. 
0  Mary,  the  pity  of  it !  " 

He  looked  at  his  sister.  There  was  no 
weakness  now  in  her  face,  nor  beauty 
either.  Age  must  have  passed  her  in  the 
night. 


188  MART  MAGDALEN. 

"  And  I  will  have  a  word  with  Pilate 
too,"  she  said. 

As  a  somnambulist  might,  she  drew  her 
mantle  closer,  and,  moving  to  the  wayside, 
ascended  the  hill.  The  silver  and  green 
of  the  olives  closed  around  her,  and  with 
them  the  branching  dates.  Above,  a  star 
left  by  the  morning  glimmered  feebly. 
In  a  myrtle  a  bird  began  to  sing,  and  a 
lizard  that  had  come  out  to  intercept  the 
Bun  scurried  as  she  passed.  Upward 
and  onward  still  she  went,  and,  the  sum- 
mit reached,  for  a  moment  she  stopped 
and  rested. 

To  the  east  the  Dead  Sea  lay,  a  stretch 
of  silk.  At  its  edge  was  the  flutter  of 
ospreys  feasting  on  the  barbels  and 
breams  of  the  Jordan,  which  as  they  en- 
ter, die.  Beyond  was  a  glitter  of  white 
and  gold,  the  scarp  of  Moriah  and  its 
breast  of  stone,  the  Tyrian  bevel  of  Solo- 
mon, the  porphyry  of  Nehemiah,  the  mar- 
ble that  Herod  gave  ;  ascending  terraces, 
engulfing  porticoes,  the  splendor  of  Je- 
rusalem at  dawn.  Between  the  houses 
nearest  was  the  dimness  that  shadows 


MARY  MAGDALEtf.  189 

cast ;  those  further  away  had  a  scatter  of 
pink ;  about  it  all  was  a  wall  surmounted 
by  turrets  ;  beneath  was  a  ravine  in  which 
was  a  brook,  and  a  city  of  booths  and 
tents,  grazing  camels  and  fat-tailed  sheep. 

Through  the  pines  and  cypresses  Mary 
passed  down  to  where  the  olives  were. 
The  brook  sent  a  message  to  her;  the 
blood  that  had  flowed  from  the  sacrifices 
was  in  it,  and  in  the  fresh  morning  it 
reeked  a  little,  as  such  brooks  do.  It  was 
here,  she  thought,  the  Master  had  been 
taken,  and  for  a  second  she  stopped  again. 
The  sun  now  was  rising  behind  her  ;  the 
color  of  the  sky  shifted.  Beyond  Jeru- 
salem a  mountain  was  melting  in  excesses 
of  vermilion,  and  the  ravine  that  had  been 
gray  was  assuming  the  tenderest  green. 
The  star  had  disappeared,  but  from  each 
tree  broke  the  greeting  of  a  bird. 

A  rustle  of  the  leaves  near  by  startled 
her,  and  she  looked  about,  fearful,  as 
women  are,  of  some  beast  of  prey.  A 
white  robe  was  there,  a  white  turban,  and 
beneath  it  the  swart  face  of  one  whom 
she  had  known. 


190  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

To  her  eyes  came  massacres.  "  Judas !  " 
she  exclaimed,  and  looked  up  in  that  roof 
of  her  world  where  day  puts  its  blue  and 
night  puts  its  black.  "  Judas ! "  she  re- 
peated. Her  small  hands  clenched,  and 
the  rhymes  of  her  mouth  grew  venomous. 

Then  the  woman  spoke  in  her.  "  "Why 
did  you  not  kill  me  first  ?" 

Judas  swayed  like  an  ox  hit  on  the 
forehead.  The  motion  distracted  and  ir- 
ritated her.  "  Can't  you  speak,"  she 
cried,  "  or  does  hell  hold  you,  tongue  and 
all?" 

He  raised  a  hand  as  though  he  feared 
another  blow.  The  gesture  was  so  hu- 
man and  yet  so  humble  that  Mary  looked 
into  his  face.  Time,  which  turns  the 
sweet-eyed  girl  into  a  withered  spectre, 
must  have  touched  him  with  its  thumb. 
His  eyes  were  ringed  and  cavernous,  his 
cheeks  empty. 

"  You  have  heard,  then  ?  "  he  said  ;  but 
he  evinced  no  curiosity.  He  spoke  with 
the  apathy  of  one  who  takes  everything 
for  granted,  one  with  whom  fate  is  to 
have  its  will.  "  I  have  just  come  from 


MAET  MAGDALEN.  191 

there,"  lie  added,with  a  backward  gesture. 
"  I  never  thought  that  such  a  thing  could 
be.  No,  I  swear  it,  I  never  did."  Then, 
in  answer  perhaps  to  some  inner  twinge, 
perhaps  also  because  of  the  expression 
of  Mary's  lips,  he  continued  :  "  If  there 
is  a  new  oath,  one  that  has  never  been 
used  before,  prompt  me,  and  I  will  swear 
again,  I  never  did.  I  thought " 

Mary  interrupted  him  savagely : 
"  There  are  ten  kinds  of  hypocrisy.  You 
have  nine  of  them ;  you  will  develop  the 
tenth  and  invent  a  new  one  besides." 

At  this  Judas  made  a  pass  with  his 
hands  and  stared  absently  at  the  ground. 
"  Mary,"  he  said,  "  life  is  a  book  which 
man  reads  when  he  dies.  During  the  last 
hour  I  have  been  unrolling  it.  In  its  scroll 
I  found  existence  a  wine-shop  where  the 
guest  fares  so  badly  that  he  would  go  at 
once  were  it  not  that  he  fears  to  call  for 
the  reckoning.  The  reckoning,  Mary,  is 
death.  I  have  called  for  it.  I  am  about 
to  pay.  Let  me  tell  you.  I  have  no  excuse 
to  offer,  no  forgiveness  now  to  await.  My 
heart  was  a  meadow :  you  made  it  stone. 


192  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

There  were  well-springs  in  it :  you  dried 
them,  Mary.  "When  I  first  saw  you,  you 
were  a  dream  fulfilled.  Others  had  brought 
echoes  of  life ;  you  brought  its  song.  It 
was  then  that  I  heard  the  Master  speak. 
I  followed  him,  and  tried  to  forget.  It 
must  be  that  I  failed,  for  when  I  saw  you 
in  Capharnahum  my  blood  danced,  and 
when  you  spoke  I  trembled.  It  was  love, 
Mary  ;  and  love,  when  it  is  not  death,  is 
life.  It  was  that  I  sought  at  your  side. 
You  would  not  listen.  Innocence  is  a 
garment.  You  seemed  to  have  wrapped 
it  about  you.  I  tried  to  tear  it  away. 
There  was  my  fault,  and  this  my  punish- 
ment. Your  right  was  inflexible  as  a 
prison-door,  and  yet  always  behind  it  was 
the  murmur  of  a  mysterious  Perhaps. 
The  others  turned  to  me ;  I  turned  to  you. 
I  forgot  again,  but  this  time  it  was  my 
duty,  my  allegiance,  and  my  faith.  Mary, 
I  loved  the  Master  more  wholly  even  than 
I  loved  you.  He  was  the  Spirit ;  you 
were  the  flesh.  In  him  was  the  future  ;  in 
you  the  tomb.  I  thought  to  conquer  both. 
While  I  mixed  my  darkness  with  his  light, 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  193 

I  pursued  you  as  night  pursues  the  day. 
On  the  light  I  have  cast  a  shadow,  and  to 
you  I  have  brought  a  blight.  But,  Mary, 
both  will  disappear.  The  one  consola- 
tion I  cling  to  now  is  that  belief.  When 
I  delivered  him  up,  it  was  myself  I  be- 
trayed, not  him.  I  am  forever  dead,  and 
he  forever  living.  While  I  bargained 
with  the  priests  and  pretended  that  my 
aim  was  coin,  when  I  led  the  levites  and 
the  Temple-guard  just  here  to  where  he 
stood,  during  all  the  hours  since  I  left 
you,  I  tried  to  escape  from  that  cage  we 
call  Fate.  Mary,  there  is  something  about 
us  higher  than  our  will.  The  revenge  I 
sought  on  you  forsook  me  before  I  reached 
the  city's  gate.  It  is  the  intangible  that 
has  brought  me  where  I  am.  I  have 
sworn  to  you  I  never  thought  this  thing 
could  be.  I  swear  it  now  again.  In 
carrying  out  the  threat  I  made,  I  thought 
to  make  you  fear  my  hate  and  make  him 
greater  than  he  was.  His  enemies,  I  had 
seen,  were  many.  Those  that  had  believed 
in  him  grew  daily  less.  In  Jerusalem  his 
miracles  had  ceased,  and  I  thought  that, 


194  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

when  the  levites  aad  the  Temple-guard 
approached,  he  would  speak  with  Samu- 
el's thunder,  answer  with  Elijah's  flame. 
I  thought  the  stars  would  shake,  the  moon 
grow  red  ;  that  he  would  produce  the  lost 
Urim,  the  vanished  Ark,  and  so  forever 
silence  disbelief.  I  was  wrong,  and  he 
was  right.  Belief  is  in  the  heart,  not  in 
the  senses ;  the  visible  contradicts,  but 
faith  is  not  to  be  confuted.  No,  Mary, 
the  tombs  are  not  dumb.  I  said  so  once, 
I  know,  but  they  answer,  and  mine  will 
speak.  On  it  perhaps  a  caricature  may 
be  daubed,  and  about  it  prejudice  will  un- 
coil. I  deserve  it.  Yet  though  you  think 
me  wholly  base,  remember  no  man  is  that. 
Since  I  met  you  my  life  has  been  a  bat- 
tle-field in  which  I  have  fought  with  con- 
science. It  has  conquered.  I  am  its 
slave ;  it  commands,  and  I  obey." 

He  drew  a  breath  as  though  he  had 
more  to  add,  and  turned  to  where  she 
stood.  There  was  no  one  there.  From 
an  olive-branch  a  red-start  piped  to  the 
morning  ;  over  the  buds  of  a  pomegranate 
a  bee  buzzed  its  delight ;  across  the  leaves 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  195 

of  a  myrtle  a  blue  spider  was  busy  with 
its  web,  but  Mary  was  no  longer  there. 
He  peered  through  the  underbrush,  and 
wandered  to  the  grove  beyond.  There 
was  no  one.  He  looked  to  the  hill-top : 
there  was  the  advancing  sun.  He  looked 
in  the  valley  :  there  were  the  pilgrims' 
booths,  the  grazing  camels  and  fat-tailed 
sheep. 

"  She  has  gone,"  he  told  himself.  "  She 
would  not  even  listen." 

He  bent  his  head.  For  the  first  time 
since  boyhood  the  tears  rolled  down  his 
face. 

"  She  might  at  least  have  heard  me,"  he 
thought,  and  brushed  the  tears  away. 
Others  came  and  replaced  them.  "When 
they  had  fallen,  there  were  more. 

"  Yes,  she  might  at  least  have  listened. 
If  I  had  no  excuse  to  offer,  at  least  I  had 
regret."  For  a  moment  he  fancied  her, 
cruel  as  only  woman  is,  hurrying  to  some 
unknown  goal.  The  tears  he  had  tried 
to  stanch  ceased  now  abruptly.  "  She  is 
right,"  he  mused.  "  She  has  left  me  to 
conscience  and  to  death." 


196  MART  MAGDALEN. 

He  turned  again  and  went  back  to 
where  he  had  stood  before.  As  he  crossed 
the  intervening  space  he  unloosed  the 
long  girdle  which  he  wore,  and  from  which 
still  hung  the  treasury  of  the  twelve. 
The  bag  that  held  it  fell  where  the  bee 
was  buzzing.  One  end  of  the  girdle 
he  tossed  over  a  branch ;  the  red- 
start spread  its  wings  and  fled.  He 
looked  about.  There  was  a  stone  near  by ; 
he  got  it  and  with  a  little  labor  rolled  it 
beneath  the  orancn.  Then  he  made  a 
noose,  very  carefully,  that  it  might  not 
come  undone,  and  settling  it  well  under 
the  chin,  he  tied  the  other  end  of  the 
girdle  to  it  and  swung  himself  from  the 
stone. 


CHAPTEK   IX. 


IX. 

IN  the  apartment  of  Claudia  Procula, 
Mary  and  the  wife  of  the  procurator 
stood  face  to  face. 

The  apartment  itself  overlooked  Jeru- 
salem. Beneath  was  an  open  space  tiled 
with  little  oblong  stones,  red,  yellow,  and 
blue  ;  the  blue  predominating.  On  either 
side  the  colossal  white  wings  of  the  pal- 
ace stretched  to  a  park,  very  green  in  the 
sunlight,  cut  by  colonnades  in  which 
fountains  were,  and  surrounded  by  a  mar- 
ble wall  that  was  starred  with  turrets  and 
fluttered  with  doves.  The  Temple, which, 
from  its  cressets,  radiated  to  the  hills 
beyond  a  glare  of  gold,  was  not  as  fair 
nor  yet  as  vast  as  this.  "Within  its  gates 
an  army  could  manoauvre  ;  in  its  banquet- 
hall  a  cohort  could  have  supped.  It  was 
Herod's  triumph,  built  subsequent  to  the 

Temple,  to  show  the  world,  perhaps,  that 

199 


200  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

to  surpass  a  masterpiece  he  had  only  to 
conceive  another. 

To  it  now  and  then,  for  a  week  or  more, 
the  procurator  descended  from  his  res- 
idence by  the  sea.  He  preferred  the 
latter ;  the  day  was  freer  there,  life  less 
cramped.  But  during  festival  times,  when 
the  fanatic  Jews  were  apt  to  be  excited 
and  need  the  chill  of  a  curb,  it  was  well 
for  him  and  his  soldiery  to  be  on  hand. 
And  so  on  this  occasion  he  had  come,  and 
with  him  his  wife,  Claudia  Procula,  and 
the  tetrarch  Antipas,  who  had  joined 
them  on  the  way. 

Antipas  and  his  retinue  occupied  the 
.<Egrippeum,  the  north  wing  of  the  pal- 
ace, while  in  the  Csesareum,  the  wing  that 
leaned  to  the  south,  was  Pilate,  his  wife 
and  body-guard. 

And  now  on  this  clear  morning  tht 
sweet-faced  patrician,  Claudia  Procula, 
with  perfectly  feminine  curiosity  was 
looking  into  the  drawn  features  of  the 
Magdalen,  and  wondering  whence  her 
rumored  charm  could  come. 

"  I  will  do  my  best,"  she  said,  at  last,  in 


MART  MAGDALEN.  201 

answer  to  an  anterior  request.  And  call- 
ing a  servant,  she  wrote  on  a  tablet  a 
word  for  Pilate's  eye. 

Mary  moved  to  the  portico.  The  vari- 
egated tiles  of  the  quadrangle  were  near- 
ly covered  now.  A  flight  of  wide,  low 
steps  led  to  the  main  entrance  of  the  pal- 
ace, and  there  a  high  seat  of  enamelled 
ebony  had  been  placed.  In  it  Pilate  sat, 
in  his  hand  the  staff  of  office.  Beside 
him  were  his  assessors,  members  of  his 
suite,  and  Calcol,  a  centurion.  On  one  of 
the  steps  Caiaphas  stood,  near  him  the 
elders  of  the  college.  Below  was  the 
Christ,  bound  and  guarded.  Across  the 
quadrangle  was  a  line  of  soldiery,  behind 
it  a  mob. 

The  helmets,  glancing  mail,  short 
skirts,  and  bare  legs  of  the  Eomans  con- 
trasted refreshingly  with  the  blossoming 
garments,  effeminate  girdles,  frontlets,  and 
horned  blue  bonnets  of  the  priesthood. 
And  in  the  riot  of  color  and  glint  of  steel 
the  Christ,  bound  as  he  was,  looked,  in 
the  simplicity  of  his  seamless  robe,  the 
descendant  of  a  larger  sphere.  Above, 


202  MAS T  MAGDALEN. 

to  the  left,  Antipas,  aroused  by  the  clam- 
or, leaned  from  a  portico.  Opposite 
where  the  sunlight  fell  Mary  held  her 
cloak  about  her. 

Caiaphas,  a  hand  indicating  Jesus,  his 
head  turned  to  Pilate,  was  formulating  a 
complaint.  Not  indeed  that  the  prisoner 
had  declared  himself  a  divinity.  There 
were  far  too  many  gods  in  the  menagerie 
of  the  Pantheon  for  a  procurator  to  be 
the  least  disturbed  at  the  rumor  of  a  new 
one.  It  was  the  right  to  rule,  that  attri- 
bute of  the  Messiah,  on  which  he  intended 
the  gravamen  of  the  charge  should  rest. 
But  he  began  circuitously,  feeling  the 
way,  in  Greek  at  that,  with  an  accent 
which  might  have  been  improved. 

"And  so,"  he  concluded,  "in  many 
ways  he  has  transgressed  the  Law." 

"Why  don't  you  judge  him  by  it, 
then  ?  "  asked  Pilate,  grimly. 

A  servant  approached  with  a  tablet. 
The  procurator  glanced  at  it,  looked  up 
at  the  man,  and  motioned  him  away. 

"  My  lord  governor,  we  have.  The 
Sanhedrim,  having  found  him  guilty,  has 


MART  MAGDALEN.  203 

sentenced  him  to  death.  But  the  Sanhe- 
drim, as  you  know,  may  not  execute  the 
sentence.  The  Senate  has  deprived  us  of 
that  right.  It  is  for  you,  as  its  legate,  to 
order  it  done," 

Pilate  sneered.  "I  can't  very  well, 
until  I  know  of  what  he  is  guilty.  What 
crime  has  he  committed — written  a  letter 
on  the  Sabbath,  or  has  he  been  caught 
without  his  phylacteries  ?  " 

"He  has  declared  himself  Israel's 
king!" 

"  Ah !  "  And  Pilate  smiled  wearily. 
"  You  are  always  expecting  one ;  why  not 
take  him  ?  " 

"Why  not,  my  lord?  Because  it  is 
treason  to  do  so." 

Pilate  nodded  with  affected  approval. 
"  I  admire  your  zeal."  And  with  a  glance 
at  the  prisoner,  he  added :  "  You  have 
heard  the  accusation ;  defend  yourself. 
What ! "  he  continued,  after  a  moment, 
"  have  you  nothing  to  say  ?  " 

Caiaphas  exulted  openly.  The  corners 
of  his  mouth  had  the  width  and  cruelty, 
and  his  nostrils  the  dilation,  of  a  wolf. 


204  MART  MAGDALEN. 

"  My  lord,"  he  cried,  "  his  silence  is  an 
admission." 

"  Hold  your  tongue !  It  is  for  me  to 
question."  And  therewith  Pilate  gave 
the  high-priest  a  look  which  was  tanta- 
mount to  a  knee  pressed  on  the  midriff. 
He  glanced  again  at  the  tablet,  then  at 
the  prisoner. 

"Tell  me,  do  you  really  claim  to  be 
king?" 

"  Is  it  your  idea  of  me  ?  "  the  Christ 
asked ;  and  in  his  bearing  was  a  dignity 
which  did  not  clash  with  the  charge ; 
"  or  have  others  prompted  you  ?  " 

"But  I  am  not  a  Jew,"  Pilate  retorted. 
"  The  matter  only  interests  me  officially. 
It  is  your  hierarchy  that  bring  the 
charge.  Why  have  they?  What  have 
you  done  ?  Tell  me,"  he  continued,  in 
Latin,  "  do  you  think  yourself  King  ?  " 

"  Tu  dixisti"  Jesus  answered,  and  smiled 
as  he  had  before,  very  gravely.  "  But  my 
royalty  is  not  of  the  earth."  And  with 
a  glance  at  his  bonds,  one  which  was  so 
significant  that  it  annulled  the  charge,  he 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  205 

added,  still  in  Latin,  "  I  am  Truth,  and  I 
preach  it." 

Pilate  with  skeptical  indulgence  shook 
his  head.  Truth  to  him  was  an  elenchi- 
cism,  an  abstraction  of  the  Platonists, 
whom  in  Borne  he  had  respected  for  their 
wisdom  and  avoided  with  care.  He  turned 
to  Caiaphas.  The  latter  had  been  re- 
gretting the  absence  of  an  interpreter. 
This  amicable  conversation,  which  he  did 
not  understand,  was  not  in  the  least  to 
his  liking,  and  as  Pilate  turned  to  him 
he  frowned  in  his  beard. 

"I  am  unable  to  find  him  guilty,"  the 
procurator  announced.  "He  may  call 
himself  king,  but  every  philosopher  does 
the  same.  You  might  yourself,  for  that 
matter." 

"  A  philosopher, this  mesith !  "  Caiaphas 
gnashed  back.  "Why,  he  seduces  the 
people ;  he  incites  to  sedition ;  he  is  a 
rebel  to  Borne.  It  is  for  you,  my  lord, 
to  see  the  empire  upheld.  Would  it  be 
well  to  have  another  complaint  laid  be- 
fore the  Csesar?  Ask  yourself,  is  this 
Galilean  worth  it  ?  " 


206  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

The  thrust  was  as  keen  and  as  venom- 
ous as  the  tooth  of  a  rat.  Pilate  had 
been  rebuked  by  the  emperor  already ; 
he  had  no  wish  to  incur  further  dis- 
pleasure. Sejanus,  the  emperor's  favor- 
ite, to  whom  he  owed  his  procuratorship, 
had  for  suspected  treason  been  strangled 
in  a  dumb  dungeon  only  a  little  before. 
Under  Tiberius  there  was  quiet,  a  future 
historian  was  to  note ;  and  Pilate  was 
aware  that,  should  a  disturbance  occur, 
the  disturbance  would  be  quelled,  but  at 
his  expense. 

An  idea  presented  itself.  "  Did  I  under- 
stand you  to  say  he  is  a  Galilean  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"Yes,"  Caiaphas  answered,  expecting, 
perhaps,  the  usual  jibe  that  was  flung  at 
those  who  came  from  there.  "  Yes,  he  is 
a  Nazarene." 

"  Hm.  In  that  case  I  have  no  juris- 
diction. The  tetrarch  is  my  guest ;  take 
your  prisoner  to  him." 

"My  lord,"  the  high-priest  objected, 
"  our  law  is  such  that  if  we  enter  the 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  207 

palace  we  cannot  officiate  at  the  Passover 
to-night." 

Pilate  appeared  to  reflect.  "  I  sup- 
pose," he  said  at  last,  "  I  might  ask  him 
whether  he  would  care  to  come  here.  In 
which  case,"  he  added,  with  a  gesture  of 
elaborate  courtesy,  "  you  may  remain  un- 
contaminated  where  you  are.  Bessala !  " 

An  official  stepped  forward ;  an  order 
was  given  ;  he  disappeared.  Presently  a 
massive  throne  of  sandalwood  and  gold 
was  trundled  out.  Caiaphas  had  seen  it 
before,  and  in  it — Herod. 

"  The  justice  that  comes  from  there," 
he  muttered,  "  is  as  a  snake  that  issues 
from  a  tomb." 

His  words  were  drowned  in  the  clamors 
of  the  crowd.  The  sun  had  crossed  the 
zenith  ;  in  its  rays  the  waters  that  gushed 
from  the  fountain-mouths  of  bronze  lions 
fell  in  rainbows  and  glistened  in  great 
basins  that  glistened  too.  There  was 
sunlight  everywhere,  a  sky  of  untroubled 
blue,  and  from  the  Temple  beyond  came 
a  glare  that  radiated  from  Olivet  to  Beth- 
lehem. 


208  MART  MAGDALEN. 

Pilate  was  bored.  The  mantle  which 
Mary  wore  caught  his  eye,  and  he  looked 
at  her,  wondering  how  she  came  in  his 
wife's  apartment,  and  where  he  had  seen 
her  before.  Her  face  was  familiar,  but 
the  setting  vague.  Then  at  once  he  re- 
membered. It  was  at  Machserus  he  had 
seen  her,  gambling  with  the  emir,  while 
Salome  danced.  She  was  with  Antipas, 
of  course.  He  looked  again;  she  had 
gone. 

The  Sanhedrim  consulted  nervously. 
The  new  turn  of  affairs  was  not  at  all  to 
their  liking.  The  clamors  of  the  mob 
continued.  Once  a  fanatic  pushed  against 
a  soldier.  There  was  a  thud,  a  howl,  and 
a  mouth  masked  with  liquid  red  gasped 
to  the  sun  and  was  seen  no  more. 

Behind  the  procurator  came  a  move- 
ment. The  officials  massed  about  the 
entrance  parted  in  uneven  ranks,  and 
in  the  great  vestibule  beyond,  Antipas 
appeared.  Pilate  rose  to  greet  him.  The 
elders  made  obeisance.  The  tetrarch 
moved  forward  and  seated  himself  in  his 
father's  throne.  At  his  side  was  Pahul, 


MART  MAGDALEN.  209 

the  butler,  balancing  himself  flamingo- 
wise  on  one  leg,  his  bold  eyes  foraging 
the  priests. 

Caiaphas  formulated  the  complaint 
anew,  very  majestically  this  time,  and, 
thinking  perhaps  to  overawe  the  tetrarch, 
his  voice  assumed  the  authority  of  a 
guardian  of  the  keys  of  heaven,  a  cham- 
berlain of  the  sceptres  of  the  earth. 

Antipas  ignored  him  utterly.  He 
plucked  at  his  fan-shaped  beard,  and 
stared  at  the  Christ.  He  could  see  now 
he  bore  no  resemblance  to  lohanan. 
There  was  nothing  of  the  hyena  about 
him,  nor  of  the  prophet  either.  Evidently 
he  was  but  a  harmless  vagabond,  skilled 
in  simples,  if  report  were  true ;  perhaps 
a  thaumaturge.  And  it  was  he  whom  he 
had  feared  and  fancied  might  be  that  Son 
of  David  for  whom  a  star  was  created, 
whom  the  magi  had  visited,  whom  his 
father  had  sought  to  destroy,  and  whom 
now  from  his  father's  own  throne  he  him- 
self was  called  upon  to  judge !  He  shook 
his  head,  and  in  the  sunlight  the  indigo 


210  MART  MAGDALEN. 

with  which  his  hair  was  powdered  made 
bright  blue  motes. 
"I 


Just  beyond,  where  the  assessors  stood, 
Mary  suddenly  appeared.  He  stopped 
abruptly  ;  for  more  than  a  year  he  had 
not  seen  her.  Pahul  had  told  him 
she  had  gone  to  Rome.  If  she  had,  he 
reflected,  the  journey  had  not  improved 
her  appearance.  Then  for  the  moment 
he  dismissed  her,  and  returned  to  the 
Christ. 

"  See  here  :  somebody  the  other  day 
told  me  you  worked  miracles.  I  have 
wanted  to  see  one  all  my  life.  Gratify 
me,  won't  you  ?  Oh,  something  very  easy 
to  begin  with.  Send  one  of  the  guards  up 
in  the  air,  or  turn  your  bonds  into  brace- 
lets." 

The  Christ  did  not  seem  to  hear.  Pa- 
hul laughed  and  held  to  the  throne  for 
support.  Antipas  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders. 

"  He  looks  harmless  enough,"  he  said. 
"  Why  not  let  him  go  ?  " 


MART  MAGDALEN.  211 

Caiaphas  glowered,  and  his  fingers 
twitched.  "  He  claims  to  be  king  ! " 

At  this  statement  the  tetrarch  laughed 
too.  He  gave  an  order  to  Pahul,  who 
vanished  with  a  grin. 

"  He  has  jeered  at  the  Temple  your 
father  built,"  Caiaphas  continued.  "He 
has  declared  he  could  destroy  it  and 
rebuild  a  better  one,  in  three  days  at 
that" 

"  He  is  king,  then,  but  of  fools." 

"  And  he  has  called  you  a  fox,"  Caia- 
phas added,  significantly. 

"  He  doesn't  claim  to  be  one  himself, 
does  he  ?  " 

"  He  is  guilty  of  treason,  and  it  is  for 
you,  his  ruler,  to  sentence  him." 

"  Not  I.  The  blood  of  kings  is  sacred. 
Pahul,  make  haste ! " 

The  butler,  reappearing,  held  in  his 
hand  the  glittering  white  vestment  of  a 
candidate.  The  tetrarch  took  it  and  held 
it  in  air. 

"  Here,  put  this  on  him,  and  let  his 
subjects  admire  him  to  their  hearts' 
content." 


212  MART  MAGDALEN. 

"Antipas,  you  disgrace  your  purple  1" 

At  the  exclamation,  the  Sanhedrim,  the 
guards,  the  assessors,  the  officials,  Pilate 
himself,  everyone  save  the  prisoner, 
turned  and  looked.  On  the  colored  pave- 
ment Mary  stood,  her  face  very  pale. 

The  tetrarch  flushed  mightily;  anger 
mounted  into  his  shifting  eyes.  For  a 
moment  the  sky  was  blood-red ;  then  he 
recovered  himself  and  answered  lightly : 

"It  seems  to  me,  my  dear,  that  you 
take  things  with  a  high  hand.  It  may  be 
that  you  forget  yourself." 

"I  take  them  from  where  I  am,"  she 
cried.  "  As  for  forgetfulness,  remember 
that  my  grandfather  was  satrap  of  Syria, 
my  father  after  him,  while  yours " 

"Yes,  yes,  I  dare  say.  He  is  not  in 
power  now ;  I  am." 

"Not  here,  Antipas,  nor  in  Rome.  I 
appeal  to  Pilate." 

The  tetrarch  rose  from  the  throne. 
The  elders  whispered  together.  Pilate 
visibly  was  perplexed.  Remembering 
Mary  as  he  did,  he  looked  upon  the  inci- 
dent as  a  family  quarrel,  one  in  which  it 


MART  MAGDALEN.  213 

would  be  unseemly  for  him  to  interfere, 
and  which  none  the  less  disturbed  the 
decorum  of  his  court 

Caiaphas  edged  up  to  the  tetrarch,  but 
the  latter  brushed  him  aside. 

"  The  hetaira  is  right,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  I  am  not  in  power  here.  If  I  were,  she 
should  be  lapidated." 

And,  preceded  by  the  butler,  Antipas 
passed  through  the  parting  ranks  to  the 
vestibule  beyond. 

The  perplexity  of  the  procurator  in- 
creased. He  did  not  in  the  least  under- 
stand. To  him  Mary  stood  in  the  same 
relation  to  Antipas  that  Cleopatra  had  to 
Herod.  There  had  been  a  feud  between 
the  tetrarch  and  himself,  one  recently 
mended,  and  which  he  had  no  wish  to 
renew.  Yet  manifestly  Antipas  was  ag- 
grieved, and  his  own  path  in  the  matter 
by  no  means  clear. 

"  Bah ! "  he  muttered,  in  the  consoling 
undertone  of  thought,  "what  are  their 
beastly  barbarian  manners  to  me  ?  " 

These  reflections  Caiaphas  interrupted. 


214  MART  MAGDALEN. 

"  We  are  waiting,  my  lord,  for  the  sen- 
tence to  be  pronounced." 

The  tone  he  used  was  not,  however, 
indicative  of  patience,  and  in  conjunction 
with  the  incident  that  had  just  occurred 
it  irritated  and  jarred.  Besides,  Pilate 
did  not  care  to  be  prompted.  It  was  for 
him  to  speak  first.  He  strangled  an  oath, 
and,  gathering  some  fringe  of  the  majesty 
of  Rome,  he  announced  very  measuredly  : 

"You  have  brought  this  man  before 
me  as  a  rebel.  I  have  examined  him  and 
find  no  ground  for  the  charge.  His  ruler, 
the  tetrarch,  has  also  examined  him,  and 
by  him  too  he  has  been  acquitted.  But 
in  view  of  the  fact  that  he  appears  to  have 
contravened  some  one  or  another  of  your 
laws  I  order  him  to  be  scourged  and  to 
be  liberated." 

With  that  he  turned  to  the  prisoner. 
During  the  entire  proceedings  the  attitude 
of  Jesus  had  not  altered.  He  stood  as  a 
disinterested  spectator  might — one  whom 
chance  had  brought  that  way  and  there 
hemmed  in — his  eyes  on  remote,  inacces- 


MART  MAGDALEN.  216 

sible  horizons,  the  tongue  silent,  the  head 
a  little  raised. 

"  Scourging,  my  lord,"  Caiaphas  inter- 
jected, "is  fit  and  proper,  but,"  he  con- 
tinued, one  silk-gloved  hand  uplifted, 
"our  law  prescribes  death.  Only  an 
enemy  to  Tiberius  would  prevent  it." 

At  the  veiled  menace  Pilate  gnawed 
his  under  lip.  He  had  no  faith  at  all  in 
the  loyalty  of  the  hierarch ;  at  any  other 
time  the  affection  the  latter  manifested 
for  the  chains  he  bore  would  have  been 
ludicrous  and  nothing  else.  But  at  the 
moment  he  felt  insecure.  There  were 
Galileans  whom  he  had  sacrificed,  Ju- 
dseans  whom  he  had  slaughtered,  Sa- 
maritans whom  he  had  oppressed,  an  em- 
bassy might  even  now  be  on  its  way  to 
Rome  ;  he  thought  again  of  Sejanus,  and, 
with  cause,  he  hesitated.  Yet  of  the  in- 
ward perturbation  he  gave  no  outward 
sign. 

"  On  this  day,"  he  said  at  last,  "  it  is 
customary  that  in  commemoration  of 
your  nation's  delivery  out  of  Egypt  I 
ghould  release  a  prisoner  to  you.  There 


216  MART  MAGDALEN. 

are  three  others  here,  among  them  Jesus 
Barabba." 

Then,  for  support  perhaps,  he  looked 
over  at  the  clamoring  mob. 

"  I  will  leave  the  choice  to  the  people." 
A  wind  seemed  to  raise  the  elders; 
they  scattered  through  the  court  like 
leaves.  "  Have  done  with  the  Nazarene," 
cried  one.  "  He  would  lead  you  astray," 
insinuated  another.  "He  has  violated 
the  Law,"  exclaimed  a  third. 

And,  filtering  through  the  soldiery  into 
the  mob  without,  they  exhorted  and 
prayed  and  coerced.  "  Ask  for  Barabba ; 
denounce  the  blasphemer.  Trust  to  the 
Sanhedrim.  We  are  your  guides.  Let 
him  atone  for  his  crimes.  The  God  of 
your  fathers  commands  that  you  con- 
demn. Demand  Barabba;  uphold  your 
nation.  To  the  cross  with  the  Nazarene !  " 

"  Whom  do  you  choose  ? "  shouted 
Pilate. 

And  the  pleb  of  Jerusalem  shouted 
back  as  one  man,  "  Barabba !  " 

At  the  moment  Pilate  fancied  himself 
in  an  amphitheatre,  the  arena  filled  with 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  217 

beasts.  There  were  the  satin  and  stripes 
of  the  panther,  the  yellow  of  treacherous 
eyes,  the  gnash  of  fangs,  the  guttural 
rumble,  the  deafening  yell,  the  scent  of 
blood,  and  above,  the  same  blue  tender 
sky. 

"  What  of  the  prisoner  ?  "  he  called. 

A  roar  leapt  back.  "  Sekaph !  Sekaph ! 
Let  him  be  crucified." 

Pilate  had  fronted  a  rabble  before,  and 
in  two  minutes  had  turned  that  rabble 
into  so  many  dead  flies,  the  legs  in  the 
air.  He  shook  his  head,  and  told  himself 
he  was  not  there  to  be  coerced. 

"  Release  Barabba,"  he  ordered.  "  And 
as  for  the  prisoner,  take  him  to  the  bar- 
racks and  have  him  scourged." 

"  Brute ! "  cried  a  voice  that  lifted  him 
as  a  blow  might  from  his  ebony  chair. 
"  Pilate,  though  you  are  a  plebeian,  why 
show  yourself  a  slave  ?  " 

And  Mary,  with  the  strength  of  anger, 
brushed  through  the  encircling  officials 
and  towered  before  him,  robed  in  wrath. 

"  Ah,  permit  me,"  he  answered ;  "  you 
are  singularly  unjust." 


218  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

"Prove  me  so,  and  countermand  the 
order  that  you  gave." 

As  she  spoke  she  adjusted  her  mantle, 
which  had  become  disarranged,and  looked 
him  from  head  to  foot,  measuring  him  as  it 
were,  and  finding  him,  visibly,  very  small. 

Already  the  prisoner  had  been  led 
away,  and  beyond,  in  the  barracks,  was 
the  whiz  of  jagged  leather  that  lacer- 
ated, rebounded,  and  lacerated  again. 

"  I  will  not,"  he  answered.  "  What  I 
have  ordered,  I  have  ordered.  As  for 
you " 

There  had  come  to  her  that  look  which 
sibyls  have.  "  Pilate,"  she  interrupted, 
"you  are  powerful  here,  I  know,  but" — 
and  her  hand  shot  out  like  an  arrow 
from  a  bow — "over  there  vultures  are 
circling ;  in  your  power  is  a  corpse. 
What  the  vultures  scent,  I  see." 

So  abrupt  and  earnest  was  the  gesture 
that  unconsciously  Pilate  found  himself 
looking  to  where  she  seemed  to  point 
He  lowered  his  eyes  in  vexation. 
Wrangling  with  a  woman  was  not  to 
his  taste. 


MART  MAGDALEN.  219 

"  There,  there,"  he  said,  much  as  one 
might  to  a  fretful  child;  "don't  throw 
stones." 

"  I  have  but  one  ;  it  is  Justice,  and  that 
I  keep  to  hurl  at  you." 

The  procurator's  mouth  twitched  omi- 
nously. "My  dear,"  he  said,  "you  are 
too  pretty  to  talk  that  way ;  it  spoils  the 
looks.  Besides,  I  have  no  time  to  listen." 

"  Tiberius  has  and  will." 

Pilate  nodded ;  it  was  the  third  time 
he  had  heard  the  threat  that  day. 

"  There  are  many  rooms  in  his  palace," 
he  answered,  with  covert  significance. 

"Yes,  I  know  it.  There  are  many, as 
you  say.  But  there  is  one  I  will  enter. 
On  the  door  stands  written  The  Future, 
and  behind  it,  Pilate,  is  your  death." 

The  Roman,  goaded  to  exasperation, 
sprang  to  his  feet.  An  expression  which 
Antipas  had  used  occurred  to  him. 
"  Away  with  the  hetaira,"  he  cried  ;  and 
he  was  about,  it  may  be,  to  order  her  to 
be  tossed  to  the  fierce  wild  swine  in  the 
paddocks  of  the  park  when  the  prisoner 
and  his  guards  reappeared  on  the  tessel~ 


220  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

lated  pavement,  and  Mary,  already 
dragged  from  him,  was  instantly  forgot 

A  tattered  sagum,  which  had  once  been 
scarlet,  but  which  had  faded  since,  hungf 
detained  at  the  shoulder  by  a  rusty 
buckle,  and  bordered  by  a  laticlave,  loose- 
ly about  his  form.  In  his  hand  a  bulrush 
swayed  ;  on  his  head  was  a  twisted  coil  of 
bear's-breech,  in  which,  among  the  ruffled 
leaves,  one  bud  remained ;  it  was  white, 
the  opening  edges  flecked  with  pink, 
perhaps  with  blood,  for  from  the  temples 
and  about  the  ear  a  rill  ran  down  and 
mixed  with  the  purple  of  the  laticlave 
below.  And  in  this  red  parody  of  king- 
ship the  Christ  stood,  unmoved  as  a 
phantom,  but  in  his  face  and  eyes  there 
was  a  projecting  light  so  luminous,  so 
intangible,  and  yet  so  real,  that  the  skep- 
tical procurator  started,  the  staff  of  office 
pendent  in  his  grasp. 

"  Ecce  homo  ! "  he  exclaimed.  Instinc- 
tively he  drew  back,  and,  wonderingly, 
half  to  himself,  half  to  the  Christ,  "  Who 
are  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  A  flame  below,  a  soul  above,"  Jesus 


MART  MAGDALEN.  221 

answered,  jet  so  inaudibly  that  the  guards 
beside  him  did  not  catch  the  words. 

To  Pilate  his  lips  had  barely  moved, 
and  his  wonderment  increased.  "  Why 
do  you  not  answer  ?  "  he  said.  "  You 
must  know  that  I  have  the  power  to  con- 
demn and  to  acquit." 

With  that  gentleness  that  was  the  flower 
of  his  parables  Jesus  raised  his  voice. 
"  No,"  he  replied,  "  you  can  have  no  power 
against  me  unless  it  come  from  above." 

Again  Pilate  drew  back.  Unsummoned 
to  his  lips  had  sprung  the  words,  "  Behold 
the  man !  "  and  now  he  exclaimed,"  Behold 
the  king!" 

But  to  the  mob  the  vision  he  inter- 
cepted was  lost.  They  saw  the  jest  merely, 
and  with  it  the  stains  that  torture  leaves. 
The  sight  of  blood  is  heady ;  it  inebriates 
more  surely  than  wine.  The  mob,  trained 
by  the  elders,  and  used  by  them  as  a 
body-guard,  fanatic  before,  were  intoxi- 
cated now.  With  one  accord  they  shrieked 
the  liturgy  again. 

"  Sekaph !  Sekaph  !  Let  him  be  cruci- 
fied." 


222  MART  MAGDALEN. 

In  that  gust  of  hatred  Pilate  recovered. 
He  turned  to  Caiaphas  : 

"  I  have  released  one  prisoner  ;  I  will 
release  another  too." 

"My  lord,  be  warned  by  one  who  is 
your  elder." 

"  One  whom  I  can  remove." 

"  No  doubt,  my  lord ;  but  suffer  him 
while  he  may  to  warn  you  not  to  cause  a 
revolution  on  the  day  of  the  Paschal  feast. 
You  hear  that  multitude.  Then  be 
warned." 

"  But  your  feast  is  one  of  mercy." 

The  high-priest  gazed  curiously  at  his 
silk-gloved  hands.  You  would  have  said 
they  were  objects  he  had  never  seen  be- 
fore. Then  he  returned  the  procurator's 
stare. 

"  We  know  of  no  such  god." 

"  Ah  !  "  And  the  procurator  drew  a 
long  breath  of  understanding.  "  It  is  that, 
I  believe,  he  preaches." 

"  And  it  is  for  that,"  Caiaphas  echoed, 
"  that  he  must  die.  Yes,  Pilate,  it  is  for 
that.  There  is  no  such  doctrine  in  the 
Pentateuch.  We  have  done  our  duty. 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  223 

We  have  convicted  a  rebel  of  his  guilt. 
We  have  brought  him  to  you,  and  we  de- 
mand his  sentence.  Pilate,  it  is  not  so 
very  long  ago  you  had  hundreds  mas- 
sacred without  judgment,  without  trial 
either,  and  for  what  ? — for  one  rebellious 
cry.  You  must  have  a  reason  for  the 
favor  you  show  this  man.  It  would  in- 
terest me  to  learn  it ;  it  would  interest 
Tiberius  as  well.  Listen  to  that  multitude. 
If  you  pay  no  heed  to  our  accusation  nor 
yet  to  their  demand,  on  you  the  conse- 
quences rest.  We  are  absolved." 

"  He  is  your  king,"  the  procurator  ob- 
jected, meditatively. 

Caiaphas  wheeled  like  a  feather  a  breeze 
has  caught.  One  hand  outstretched  he 
held  to  the  mob,  with  the  other  he  pointed 
to  the  Christ. 

"  Our  king  !  "  he  cried.  "  The  pro- 
curator says  he  is  our  king  !  " 

As  the  thunder  peals,  a  roar  surged 
back  : 

"  We  have  no  other  king  than  Caesar." 

"Think    of  Sejanus,"  the  high-priest 


224  MART  MAGDALEN. 

suggested.  The  thrust  was  so  well  timed 
it  told. 

Pilate  looked  sullenly  about.  "Fetch 
me  water,"  he  ordered. 

A  silver  bowl  was  brought,  and  borrow- 
ing a  custom  from  the  Jews  he  loathed,  he 
dipped  his  fingers  in  it. 

"  I  wash  my  hands  of  it  all,"  he  mut- 
tered. 

Oaiaphas  looked  at  the  elders  and 
sighed  with  infinite  relief.  He  had  con- 
quered. For  the  first  time  that  day  he 
smiled.  He  became  gracious  also,  and  he 
bowed. 

"  The  blood  be  upon  us,  my  lord,  and 
on  our  children.  Will  you  give  the 
order?" 

"Calcol!" 

The  centurion  approached.  An  order 
was  given  him  in  an  undertone,  and  as  he 
turned  to  the  guards,  Pilate  drew  the  staff 
of  office  across  his  knee,  snapped  it  in 
two,  tossed  the  pieces  to  the  ground,  and 
through  the  ranks  of  his  servitors  passed 
on  into  the  great  blue  vestibule  beyond. 


CHAPTER  X. 


X. 


IN  a  sook  near  the  Gannath  Gate  Mary 
stood.  In  the  distance  the  palace  of 
Herod  defied  the  sun.  Beyond  the  gate 
lay  the  Hennom  Valley,  the  Geia  Hen- 
nom,  contracted  by  the  people  into  Ge' 
Hennom,  or  Gehenna,  and  converted  by 
them  into  a  sewer,  a  place  where  carrion 
was  thrown,  and  the  filth  of  a  great  city. 
In  earlier  days  children  had  been  immo- 
lated to  Moloch  there,  human  victims  had 
been  burned ;  it  was  a  place  accursed,  and 
to  purify  the  air,  as  a  safeguard  against 
pestilence,  the  offal  was  consumed  by 
bonfires  that  were  constantly  renewed 
and  never  extinguished.  At  its  extremity 
was  an  elevation,  a  hilly  contour  which 
to  the  popular  fancy  suggested  a  skull. 
To  the  west  it  fell  steeply  away.  It  was 
called  Giilgolta. 

The   sook  in  which  Mary  stood  was 

227 


228  MART  MAGDALEN. 

affected  by  shoemakers.  Against  the 
dwelling  of  one  of  them  she  leaned.  The 
mantle  was  gone  from  her  now,  and  the 
olive  robe  had  a  rent,  but  the  splendor  of 
her  hair  fell  unconfined,  the  perils  of  her 
eyes  had  increased ;  yet  in  their  depths 
where  love  had  been  was  hate.  One  arm 
lay  along  the  resisting  stone,  the  other 
hung  at  her  side ;  her  face  was  turned  to 
the  palace,  her  thin  nostrils  quivering,  her 
breath  coming  and  going  with  that  spas- 
modic irregularity  which  the  conscious- 
ness of  outrage  brings.  She  laid  it  all  to 
Judas ;  he  must  have  returned  to  Kerioth, 
she  thought.  The  sook  itself  was  silent, 
stirred  merely  by  some  echo  of  the  uproar 
in  the  palace  beyond. 

From  a  grilled  lattice  near  by  an  old 
man  peered  out.  He  had  the  restless 
eyes  of  a  ferret,  and  a  white  beard  that 
was  very  long.  He  too  was  looking  to- 
ward the  palace.  Now  and  then  he  mut- 
tered inaudibly  in  Aramaic  to  himself. 
In  the  shadow  of  a  neighboring  house  a 
woman  appeared ;  he  shook  at  the  lattice 
as  an  ape  does  at  the  bars  of  a  cage,  and 


MAST  MAGDALEN.  229 

spat  a  bestial  insult  at  her.  The  woman 
shrank  back.  Instinctively  Mary  turned. 
In  the  retreating  figure  she  recognized 
Ahulah,  and  at  once,  without  conscious 
effort,  she  divined  that  the  dwelling 
against  which  she  leaned  was  that  of  Baba 
Barbulah,  the  husband  of  the  woman 
whom  the  Master  had  declined  to  con- 
demn. 

But  other  things  possessed  her — the 
outrage  to  the  Christ,  perplexity  as  to 
how  the  trial  would  result,  more  remotely 
the  indignity  to  herself,  the  slurs  of  the 
tetrarch  and  of  the  procurator ;  and  with 
them,  sapping  her  heart  as  fever  might, 
was  that  thirst  for  reparation,  unquench- 
able in  its  intensity,  which  comes  to  those 
who  have  seen  their  own  life  wrecked  and 
its  ideals  dispersed. 

Already  Ahulah  was  forgot.  On  the 
wings  of  vagabond  fancy  she  was  in  Borne, 
demanding  vengeance  of  Tiberius,  wrest- 
ing it  from  him  by  the  sheer  force  of  en- 
treaty, and  with  it  exulting  in  the  death- 
throes  of  the  procurator.  Oh,  to  see  his 
nails  pulled  out,  his  outer  skin  removed, 


230  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

his  tongue  severed,  his  eyes  seared  with 
irons,  his  wrists  slowly  twisted  till  they 
snapped !  to  hear  him  cry  for  mercy  1  to 
promise  it  and  not  fulfil ! — dear  God,  what 
joy  was  there ! 

From  the  alley  into  which  Ahulah  had 
shrunk  a  man  issued.  He  was  sturdy  as 
a  bludgeon,  and  he  had  a  growth  of  thick 
black  hair  that  curled  about  an  honest 
face.  In  his  hand  was  a  basket.  At  the 
sight  of  Mary  his  steps  hesitated,  and  his 
eyes  followed  hers  to  where  the  palace 
lay.  Then  he  crossed  the  zigzag  of  the 
intervening  space,  but  he  had  to  touch 
her  outstretched  arm  before  she  noticed 
him. 

"Simon!"  she  exclaimed,  with  that 
start  one  has  when  suddenly  awaked. 

"  Yes,  Simon  indeed ;"  and  through  the 
silence  of  the  sook  his  clear  laugh  rang. 
"  I  frightened  you,  did  I  not  ?  " 

Mary  interrupted  him.  "  Haven't  you 
heard  ?  Has  not  Eleazer  told  you " 

"  When  I  left  Bethany  he  was  sleeping 
with  both  fists  closed.  Martha " 

"The  Master  is  arrested.     Last  night 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  231 

he  was  before  the  Sanhedrim  ;  he  is  be- 
fore the  procurator  now." 

Hurriedly  Mary  gave  an  account  of 
what  had  occurred.  As  the  recital  con- 
tinued, Simon's  expression  grew  darker 
than  his  curling  hair,  he  clutched  at  the 
basket  which  he  held,  so  tightly  that  the 
handle  severed,  the  basket  fell,  and  fruit 
that  imprisoned  the  sunlight  rolled  on 
the  ground. 

"  They  were  for  the  Master,"  he  said. 
"I  thought  he  would  sup  with  us  to- 
night." 

"He  may  do  so  yet,"  she  answered. 
"  Perhaps " 

"  Never ! "  cried  a  voice  from  the  lattice. 
"They  are  leading  him  to  Giilgolta  now." 

Beyond,  through  the  palace  gate,  a 
mass  undulated,  the  body  elongated,  ex- 
panding as  it  moved.  It  was  black,  but 
at  the  sides  was  the  glisten  that  cobras 
have.  About  it  dust  circled,  and  from  it 
came  the  rumble  of  thunder  heard  afar. 
As  the  bulk  increased,  the  roar  deep- 
ened ;  the  black  lessened  into  varying 
hues.  To  the  glisten  came  the  glint  of 


232  MART  MAGDALEN. 

steel ;  the  cobra  changed  into  a  multi- 
tude, the  escort  of  a  squad  of  soldiery, 
fronted  by  a  centurion  and  led  by  the 
banner  of  Imperial  Borne. 

Behind  the  centurion,  Jesus,  in  his 
faded  sagum,  staggered,  overweighted 
by  the  burden  of  a  cross.  Two  com- 
rades in  misery  were  at  his  side,  but 
they  moved  with  steadier  step,  bearing 
their  crosses  with  the  brawn  of  muscular 
and  untired  arms.  The  soldiers  marched 
impassibly,  preceding  the  executioners 
— four  stalwart  Cypriotes,  distinguish- 
able by  the  fatness  of  their  calves — while 
behind  was  the  Sanhedrim,  and,  extend- 
ing indefinitely  to  the  rear,  the  rabble  of 
yelling  Jews. 

In  a  cobra's  coils  is  death,  its  eyes 
transfix.  Neither  Mary  nor  Simon  had 
spoken,  and  now,  «s  the  soldiery  was 
upon  them,  they  leaned  yet  nearer  the 
wall.  For  a  moment  Mary  hid  her  face. 
At  her  feet  the  Christ  had  fallen,  and 
from  her  came  one  wail,  choked  down  at 
once.  She  stooped  to  aid  him,  but  he 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  233 

stood  up  unassisted  and  reached  to  the 
wall  for  support. 

The  bars  of  the  lattice  shook  ;  the  old 
man  peered  out. 

"  Don't  touch  my  house,  you  vaga- 
bond !  Move  on !  "  he  cried. 

Calcol  had  turned  to  Simon,  who  was 
raising  the  cross.  "  Carry  it  for  him,"  he 
commanded. 

Baba  Barbulah  still  shook  at  the  lat- 
tice. "  Move  on !  "  he  repeated.  "  Seducer 
of  the  people,  remitter  of  sins,  upholder 
of  adultery,  move  on;  don't  touch  my 
house,  it  will  fall  down  on  you!  Move 
on,  I  say ! " 

Calcol's  command  Simon  had  antici- 
pated. He  shouldered  the  cross.  It  was 
heavier  to  him  than  to  the  Christ,  not  in 
weight,  perhaps,  but  in  purpose.  In  the 
narrowness  of  the  sook  the  crowd  was 
impeded,  but  from  the  rear  they  pushed, 
surprised  at  the  halt. 

Mary  sprang  at  the  lattice.  "  It  is  you 
that  shall  move  on,"  she  cried ;  "yes, 
you ;  and  forever.  The  desert  will  call 
to  you,  *  March ; '  and  the  sea  will  snarl, 


234  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

'Further  yet.'  The  gates  of  cities  will 
deny  you,  and  the  doors  of  hamlets  be 
closed.  The  eagles  may  return  to  their 
eyrie,  the  panthers  retreat  to  their  lair, 
but  you  will  have  no  home,  no  rest,  and, 
till  time  dies,  no  tomb." 

The  old  man  gnashed  back  at  her  an 
insult  more  bestial  than  he  used  before, 
and  spat  at  her  through  the  bars.  But 
Mary  had  turned  to  the  Christ.  He  was 
surrounded  now  by  some  women  who 
had  filtered  through  the  alley  above. 
Johanna,  Mary  Clopas,  the  wife  of  Zeb- 
dia,  and  Bernice,  a  fragile  girl  newly  en- 
rolled. The  latter  was  wiping  from  his 
face  the  stains  of  blood  and  dust.  The 
others  were  beating  their  breasts,  crying 
aloud. 

Of  the  disciples  there  was  no  trace,  nor 
yet  of  any  of  those  who  had  greeted  him 
as  the  Messiah.  It  may  be  that  the  ad- 
miring throngs  that  had  gathered  about 
him  had  faded  before  a  superior  force. 
It  may  be  they  had  lost  heart,  belief 
perhaps  as  well.  Invective  never  pro- 
pitiates. Recently  he  had  omitted  to 


MART  MAGDALEN  235 

prophesy,  he  argued.  The  exquisite 
parables  with  which  he  had  been  wont 
to  charm  even  the  recalcitrant  seemed  to 
have  been  put  aside,  and  with  them  those 
wonders  which  rumor  held  him  to  have 
worked.  But  now  that  pathos  and  grace 
which  endeared,  that  perfection  of  senti- 
ment and  expression  which  exalted  the 
heart,  returned  to  him,  accentuated  per- 
haps by  the  agonies  he  had  endured. 

*'  Weep  for  me  no  more,"  he  entreated. 
"  But  weep  for  yourselves  and  for  your 
children.  The  days  are  coming,"  he 
added,  with  a  gesture  at  the  impatient 
mob — "the  days  are  coming  in  which 
they  shall  say  to  the  mountains,  Fall  on 
us ;  to  the  hills,  Cover  us.  For  if  these 
things  are  done  in  the  green  tree,  what 
will  be  done  in  the  dry  ?  " 

And  in  this  entreaty,  in  which  he  ex- 
horted them  to  view  disaster  otherwise 
than  from  the  external  and  evanescent 
aspect,  the  voice  of  the  prophet  rang 
once  more. 

Mary  as  yet  had  not  realized  the  full 
portent  of  the  soldiery  and  the  mob. 


236  MART  MAGDALEX. 

When  it  was  approaching  it  had  occurred 
to  her  that  it  might  be  another  triumphal 
escort,  such  as  she  had  once  seen  sur- 
round him  on  his  way  to  a  feast  As  it 
advanced,  the  roar  bewildered,  and  she 
had  ceased  to  conjecture  ;  then  the  Master 
had  fallen,  and  the  old  Jew  had  vomited 
his  slime.  At  the  moment  it  was  that,  and 
that  only,  which  had  impressed  her,  and 
she  had  answered  with  the  force  of  that 
new  strength  which  suddenly  she  had 
found.  But  now  at  the  sight  of  the 
women  beating  their  breasts,  and  the 
blood-stained  face  of  the  Master,  an  ink- 
ling came  to  her ;  she  stared  open- 
mouthed  at  the  cross,  at  Calcol,  and  at 
the  executioners  that  were  there. 

Then  immediately  that  horrible  longing 
to  know  the  worst  beset  her,  and  she 
darted  to  where  the  centurion  stood. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  gasped.  "  What  are 
you  to  do  with  him  ?  " 

By  way  of  answer  Calcol  extended  his 
arms  straight  out  from  either  side,  his 
head  thrown  back.  He  was  a  good-na- 
tured ruffian,  with  clear  and  pleasant  eyes. 


MART  MAGDALEN  237 

"  Not  crucify  ?  "  she  cried.  "  Tell  me,  it 
is  not  that?" 

Calcol  nodded.  To  him  one  Jew  more, 
one  Jew  less,  was  immaterial,  provided 
he  had  his  pay,  and  the  prospect  of  a  re- 
turn to  Home  was  not  too  long  delayed. 
Yet  none  the  less  in  some  misty  way  he 
wondered  why  this  woman,  with  her 
splendid  hair  and  scorching  eyes,  should 
have  upbraided  the  tetrarch  and  abused 
the  procurator  because  of  the  friendless 
Galilean  whom  he  was  leading  to  the 
cross.  Woman  to  him,  however,  was,  as 
she  has  been  to  others  wiser  than  he,  an 
enigma  he  failed  to  solve.  And  so  he 
nodded  merely,  not  unkindly,  and  smiled 
in  Mary's  face. 

The  horrible  longing  now  was  stilled. 
She  knew  the  worst ;  yet  as  the  knowledge 
of  it  penetrated  her  being,  it  seemed  to 
her  as  though  it  could  not  be  true,  that 
she  was  the  plaything  of  some  hallucina- 
tion, her  mind  inhabited  by  a  nightmare 
from  which  she  must  presently  awake. 
The  howl  of  the  impatient  mob  unde- 
ceived her.  It  was  real ;  it  was  actual ; 


238  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

it  was  life.  She  stared  at  Calcol,  her  fair 
mouth  agape.  There  were  many  things 
she  wanted  to  say ;  her  thoughts  teemed 
with  arguments,  her  mind  with  persua- 
sions ;  but  she  could  utter  nothing ;  she 
was  as  one  struck  dumb ;  and  it  was  not 
until  the  centurion  smiled  that  the  spell 
dissolved  and  the  power  of  speech  re- 
turned. 

"Ah,  that  never;  you  shall  kill  me 
first ! "  she  cried.  And  already  she  saw 
herself  circumventing  the  centurion,  blind- 
ing the  soldiery,  defying  the  mob,  and 
leading  the  Master  through  byways  and 
underground  passages  out  of  the  ac- 
cursed city  into  the  fresh  glades  of  Geth- 
semane,  over  the  hill,  down  the  hollows 
to  the  Jordan,  and  into  the  desert  be- 
yond. There  was  one  spot  she  knew 
very  well ;  one  that  only  a  bird  could 
find ;  one  that  she  would  mention  to  no 
one,  but  to  which  she  could  take  him  and 
keep  him  hidden  there  in  the  brakes  till 
night  came,  and  the  fording  of  the  river 
was  safe. 

"  That  never  !  "  she  cried.     And  brush- 


MART  MAGDALEN.  239 

ing  Bernice  off,  she  caught  the  Master  by 
the  cloak.  "  Come  with  me,"  she  mur- 
mured. "  I  know  a  way " 

And  she  would  have  dragged  him  per- 
haps, regardless  of  the  others,  but  the 
centurion  had  her  by  the  arm. 

"  See  here,  my  pretty  friend,  your  place 
is  not  here." 

With  a  twist  he  sent  her  spinning  back 
to  Baba  Barbulah's  wall. 

"  March ! "  he  ordered. 

The  soldiery,  disarranged,  fell  in  line. 
The  two  robbers  picked  up  their  burden. 
The  Master  turned  to  Mary,  to  the  others 
as  well,  with  that  expression  which  he 
alone  possessed,  that  look  which  both 
promised  and  assuaged,  and,  it  may  be, 
would  have  said  some  word  of  encourage- 
ment, but  Mary  was  at  his  side  again, 
her  hand  upon  his  cloak. 

"It  shall  never  be,"  she  repeated. 
"They  must  kill  me  first." 

Calcol  wheeled.  His  short  sword 
glistened,  reversed,  and  her  cheek  was 
laid  open  by  the  hilt.  She  staggered 
back.  The  soldiery  moved  on.  The 


240  MART  MAGDALEN. 

women  surrounded  her  and  stanched  the 
wound.  To  her  the  blow  held  the  differ- 
ence between  a  cut  and  a  cancer  ;  she 
knew  that  it  could  never  heal ;  and,  as  the 
blood  poured  down  her  face,  for  the  first 
time  she  divined  the  uselessness  of  revolt. 

Presently  a  wave  of  the  mob  caught 
her,  separating  her  from  the  other  women, 
and  carrying  her  in  its  eddy  through 
the  gate,  into  the  valley  and  on  to  the 
hillock  beyond.  On  one  side  were  the 
glimmer  of  fires,  the  smell  of  smoke,  of 
offal  too.  On  the  infrequent  trees  vul- 
tures perched.  To  the  right  was  a  nest 
of  gardens  and  of  tombs. 

In  the  eddies  Mary  lost  foothold  and 
lagged  a  little  to  the  rear.  When  she 
reached  Giilgolta  the  soldiery  had  formed 
three  sides  of  a  square.  In  it  were  the 
executioners,  the  prisoners,  and  the  cen- 
turion. At  the  place  where  a  fourth  side 
might  have  been  a  steep  decline  began. 

Within  the  square  three  crosses  lay ; 
before  them  the  prisoners  stood,  stripped 
of  their  clothing  now,  and  naked. 

The    Sanhedrim    was   grouped   about 


MART  MAGDALEN.  241 

that  side  of  the  square  which  leaned  to 
the  south,  the  horned  bonnet  of  Caiaphas 
towering  its  lacework  above  the  others. 
To  the  wide  and  cruel  corners  of  his 
mouth  had  come  the  calm  of  a  cheetah 
devouring  its  prey.  At  the  outer  angle, 
to  the  right,  the  standard  of  the  empire 
swayed ;  and  from  an  oak  two  vultures 
soared  with  a  scream  into  the  air,  their 
eyes  fixed  on  the  vision  of  bare  white 
flesh. 

Through  the  ranks  an  elder  passed.  In 
his  hand  was  a  gourd,  which  he  offered  to 
one  of  the  thieves. 

"Drink  of  it,  Dysmas,"  he  invited. 
"  In  it  grains  of  frankincense  have  been 
dissolved." 

To  the  rear  Annas  nodded  his  approval. 
His  lean,  lank  jaws  parted.  "  Give  strong 
drink,"  he  announced,  authoritatively; 
"  give  strong  and  heady  drink  to  those 
about  to  die,  and  wine  to  those  that  sor- 
row." 

Dysmas  drank  abundantly  of  the  sopo- 
rific, and  held  the  gourd  to  his  comrade. 

"  Take  it,  Stegas." 


242  MART  MAODALEN. 

As  the  second  thief  raised  it  to  his  lips, 
with  a  motion  of  arm  and  knee  an  execu- 
tioner caught  Dysmas  beneath  the  chin, 
behind  the  leg,  and  the  thief  lay  on  a 
cross.  In  a  second  his  wrists  were  bound, 
his  feet  as  well.  There  was  the  blow  of 
a  hammer  on  a  nail,  a  spurt  of  blood  from 
the  open  hand ;  another  blow,  another 
spurt ;  and  the  cross,  upraised,  settled  in 
a  cavity  already  prepared,  a  beam  behind 
it  for  support. 

Stegas,  his  thirst  slaked,  fell  as  Dysmas 
had,  and  the  elder  caught  the  gourd  and 
offered  it  to  the  Christ.  If  he  had  been 
tempted  in  the  desert,  as  rumor  alleged, 
the  temptation  could  have  been  as  noth- 
ing in  comparison  to  the  enticements  of 
that  cup.  It  held  relief  from  thought, 
from  the  acutest  pain  that  flesh  can  know, 
from  life,  from  death. 

He  waved  it  aside.  The  executioner 
started  with  surprise  ;  but  he  had  his 
duty  to  perform,  and,  recovering  himself, 
he  caught  the  Christ,  and  in  a  moment  he 
too  was  down,  his  hands  transfixed,  the 
cross  upraised.  The  blood  dripped  lei- 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  243 

surely  on  the  sand  beneath.  Across  his 
features  a  shadow  passed  and  vanished. 
His  lips  moved. 

"Father,"  he  murmured,  "forgive 
them  ;  they  know  not  what  they  do." 

Calcol  gave  an  order.  Over  the  heads 
of  Dysmas  and  of  Stegas  the  sards  were 
affixed,  wooden  tablets  smeared  with 
gypsum,  bearing  the  name  of  the  cruci- 
fied and  with  it  the  offence.  They  were 
simple  and  terse ;  but  above  the  Christ 
appeared  a  legend  in  three  tongues,  in 
Aramaic,  in  Greek,  and  in  Latin  : 

.D'HTOTn   TO.  'np'TW 

'O  /Sa<rz/let)S  TOOV  'lovSatoov. 
Rex  Judaeorum. 

Caiaphas  sprang  back  as  from  the 
point  of  a  sword. 

"  Malka  di  Jehudaje !  "  he  bellowed. 
'•  King  of  the  Jews !  It  is  a  blasphemy, 
an  iniquity,  and  an  outrage.  Centurion, 
tear  it  down." 

Calcol  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and 
pointed  to  the  palace.  "  What  the  pro- 
curator has  written  he  has  written,"  he 
answered. 


244  MART  MAGDALEN. 

In  the  tone,  in  the  gesture  that  pre- 
ceded it,  and  in  its  impertinence  Caiaphas 
read  Pilate's  one  yet  supreme  revenge, 
the  expression  of  his  absolute  contempt 
for  the  whole  Sanhedrim  and  the  nation 
that  it  ruled. 

From  the  rear  the  mob  jumped  at  the 
title  as  at  a  catchword.  To  them  the 
irony  of  the  procurator  presumably  was 
lost. 

"  Bang  of  the  Jews ! "  they  shouted. 
"Malka  di  Jehudaje,  come  down  from 
your  cross ! " 

It  was  a  great  festival,  and  as  they 
jeered  at  Jesus  they  enjoyed  themselves 
hugely. 

In  their  vast  delight  the  voice  of  Stegas 
was  drowned. 

"I  am  a  Eoman  citizen,"  he  kept  re- 
peating, his  head  swaying,  and  indicating 
with  his  eyes  the  wounds  in  his  hands, 
the  torture  he  endured.  "Kill  me,"  he 
implored.  And  finding  entreaty  idle,  he 
reviled  the  centurion,  cursed  the  soldiery, 
and  would  have  spat  at  them,  but  to  his 
burning  throat  no  spittle  came. 


MAET  MAGDALEN.  245 

The  tongue  of  Dysmas  lolled  from  his 
mouth.  He  had  not  the  ability  to  speak, 
even  if  in  speech  relief  could  come. 
Flame  licked  at  his  flesh,  his  joints  were 
severing,  each  artery  was  a  nerve  exposed, 
and  something  was  crunching  his  brain. 
He  could  no  longer  groan;  he  could 
suffer  merely,  such  suffering  as  hell  per- 
haps has  failed  to  contrive,  that  apogee 
of  agony  which  it  was  left  for  man  to 
devise. 

Stegas,  catching  the  refrain  the  mob 
repeated,  turned  his  eyes  from  the  sol- 
diery to  the  adjacent  cross. 

"If  you  are  as  they  say,"  he  cried, 
"  save  yourself  and  us." 

As  a  taunt  to  Caiaphas,  Calcol  echoed, 
"  Behold  your  king !  "  and  raising  a  stalk 
of  hyssop,  on  which  was  a  sponge  that  he 
had  dipped  in  the  posca,  the  thin  wine 
the  soldiers  drink,  he  offered  it  to  the 
Christ. 

The  sun  was  nearing  the  horizon. 
Caiaphas  gathered  his  ample  folds  about 
him.  He  had  seen  enough.  The  feast, 
wretchedly  embittered,  was  nearly  done. 


246  MART  MAGDALEN, 

There  was  another  at  which  he  must  offi- 
ciate :  the  shofa  presently  would  sound  ; 
the  skewering  of  the  Paschal  lamb  it  was 
needful  for  him  to  superintend.  It  was 
time,  he  knew,  to  return  to  the  Temple  ; 
and  as  he  gave  a  last  indignant  look  at 
the  placard,  the  lips  of  the  Christ  parted 
to  one  despairing  cry  : 

"  Eli,  Eli,  lemah  shebaktani  ?  " 

Caiaphas,  nodding  to  the  elders,  smiled 
with  satisfaction. 

At  last  the  false  pretender  was  forced 
to  acknowledge  the  invalidity  of  his 
claims.  The  Father  whose  son  he  vaunt- 
ed himself  to  be  had  disowned  him  when 
his  recognition  was  needed,  if  ever  it  had 
been  needed  at  all.  And  so,  with  the 
smile  of  one  whose  labor  has  had  its 
recompense,  Caiaphas  patted  his  skirt, 
and  the  elders  about  him  strolled  back 
through  the  Gannath  Gate  to  the  Temple 
that  awaited  him. 

The  multitude  meanwhile  had  de- 
creased. To  the  crowd  also  the  Temple 
had  its  attractions,  its  duties,  and  its 
offices.  Moreover,  the  spectacle  was  at 


MART  MAGDALEN.  247 

an  end.  With  a  blow  of  the  mallet  the 
legs  of  the  thieves  had  been  broken. 
They  had  died  without  a  shriek,  a  thing 
to  be  regretted.  The  Galilean  too, 
pierced  by  the  level  stroke  of  a  spear, 
had  succumbed  without  a  word.  Sun- 
down was  approaching.  Clearly  it  was 
best  to  be  within  the  walls  where  other 
gayeties  were.  The  mob  dispersed,  leav- 
ing behind  but  the  dead,  the  circling 
vultures,  a  group  of  soldiers  throwing  dice 
for  the  garments  of  the  crucified,  and, 
remotely,  a  group  of  women  huddled 
beneath  a  protecting  oak. 

During  the  hour  or  two  that  intervened, 
the  force  which  had  visited  Mary  evapo- 
rated in  strength  overtaxed.  She  was 
conscious  only  that  she  suffocated.  The 
words  of  the  women  that  had  drawn  her 
to  them  were  empty  as  blanks  in  a  dream  ; 
the  jeers  of  the  mob  vacant  as  an  empty 
bier.  To  but  one  thing  was  she  alive, 
the  fact  that  death  could  be.  Little  by 
little,  as  the  impossible  merged  into  the 
actual,  the  understanding  came  to  her 
that  the  worst  that  could  be  had  been 


248  MART  MAGDALEN. 

done,  and  she  ceased  to  suffer.  The  de- 
parting hierarchy,  the  dispersing  mob, 
retreating  before  encroaching  night,  left 
her  unimpressed.  To  her  the  setting  sun 
was  Christ. 

The  soldiers  passed.  She  did  not  see 
them.  Calcol  called  to  her.  She  did 
not  hear.  The  women  had  gone  from 
her  ;  she  did  not  notice  it.  She  stood  as 
a  cataleptic  might,  her  eyes  on  the  cross. 
Once  only,  when  the  Christ  had  uttered 
his  despairing  cry,  she  too  had  cried  in 
her  despair.  In  the  roar  of  the  mob  the 
cry  was  lost  as  a  stone  tossed  in  the  sea. 
Since  then  she  had  been  dumb,  sightless 
also,  existing,  if  at  all,  unconsciously,  her 
life-springs  nourished  by  death. 

Though  she  gazed  at  the  cross,  she  had 
ceased  to  distinguish  it.  A  little  group 
that  had  reached  it  before  the  soldiery 
left  had  been  unmarked  by  her.  On  the 
platform  of  her  dream  a  serpent  had 
emerged.  In  its  coils  were  her  immortal 
hopes.  It  was  that  she  saw,  and  that 
alone.  Those  moments  of  agony  in 
which  the  imagination  oscillates  between 


MARY  MAGDALEN.  249 

the  past  and  the  future,  devouring  the 
one,  fumbling  the  other,  had  been  en- 
dured, and  resignation  failed  to  bring  its 
balm.  She  had  believed  with  a  faith  so 
firm  that  now  in  its  demolition  there  was 
nothing  left — an  abyss  merely,  where 
light  was  not. 

A  hand  touched  her,  and  she  quivered 
as  a  leaf  does  at  the  wing  of  a  bird. 
"  Mary,  come  with  us,"  some  one  was 
saying  ;  "  we  are  taking  him  to  a  tomb." 

Just  beyond  were  men  and  women 
whom  she  knew.  Joseph  of  Harama- 
thai'm,  a  close  follower  of  the  Master ; 
Nikodemon,  the  richest  man  in  all  Judsea ; 
Johanna,  Mary  Clopas,  Salome,  Bernice, 
and  the  servants  of  the  opulent  Jew.  It 
was  Ahulah  who  had  touched  her ;  and  as 
Mary  started  she  saw  before  her  a  coffin 
which  the  others  bore. 

"  Come  with  us,"  Ahulah  repeated ;  and 
Mary  crossed  the  intervening  ridge  to 
where  the  gardens  were  and  the  tombs 
she  had  already  passed. 

At  the  door  of  a  sepulchre  the  brief 
procession  halted.  Within  was  a  room, 


250  MART  MAGDALEN. 

a  little  grotto  furnished  with  a  stone  slab 
and  a  lamp  that  flickered,  surmounted  by 
an  arch.  The  coffin,  placed  on  the  slab, 
routed  a  bat  that  flew  to  the  arch,  and  a 
lizard  that  scurried  to  a  crevice.  In  the 
coffin  the  Christ  lay,  his  head  wrapped  in 
a  napkin,  the  body  wound  about  by 
broad  bands  of  linen  that  were  secured 
with  gum  and  impregnated  with  spices 
and  with  myrrh.  The  odor  of  aromatics 
filled  the  tomb.  The  bat  escaped  to  the 
night.  A  stone  was  rolled  before  the 
opening,  the  brief  procession  withdrew, 
and  Mary  was  left  with  the  dead. 

The  momentary  exertion,  the  bier,  the 
sepulchre,  the  sight  of  the  Christ  in  his 
cerements,  the  brooding  quiet — these 
things  had  roused  her.  Her  mind  was 
nimbler,  and  thought  more  active.  One 
by  one  the  stars  appeared.  They  would 
vanish,  she  told  herself,  as  her  hopes  had 
done.  Only  they  would  reappear,  and 
belief  could  not.  It  had  come  as  a  rain- 
bow does,  and  disappeared  as  vaporously, 
little  by  little,  before  the  full  glare  of 
might.  For  a  minute,  hours  perhaps,  she 


MART  MAGDALEN.  251 

stood  quite  still,  interrogating  the  past 
in  which  so  much  had  been,  gauging  the 
future  in  which  so  much  was  to  be.  The 
one  retreated,  the  other  fled.  Thoughts 
came  to  her  evanescently,  and  faded  be- 
fore they  were  wholly  formed.  At  one 
moment  she  was  beckoning  the  unicorns 
from  the  desert,  the  winged  lions  from  the 
yonderland,  commanding  them  to  bear 
her  to  the  home  of  some  immense  revenge. 
At  others  she  was  asking  her  way  of 
griffins,  propounding  the  problem  to  the 
Sphinx.  But  the  unicorns  and  lions  took 
flight,  the  griffins  spread  their  wings,  the 
Sphinx  fell  asleep.  There  was  no  answer 
to  her  appeal. 

Behind  the  sepulchre  the  moon  rose;  it 
dropped  a  beam  near  by.  There  is  light 
somewhere,  it  seemed  to  say  ;  and  in  that 
telegram  from  Above,  she  thought  of 
Borne.  She  remembered  now,  in  Rome 
was  Tiberius,  and  in  him  Revenge.  She 
smiled  at  her  own  forgetfulness.  Yes,  it 
was  there.  She  would  go  to  him,  she 
would  exact  reparation ;  there  should  be 
another  crucifixion.  Pilate  should  be 


252  MART  MAGDALEN. 

nailed  to  the  cross,  Judas  on  one  side, 
Caiaphas  on  the  other.  Only  it  would  be 
at  Borne  where  there  was  no  Passover  to 
interfere  with  the  torture  they  endured. 
Things  were  done  better  there.  Men  were 
crucified,  not  with  the  head  up,  but  with 
the  feet ;  and  so  remained,  not  for  hours, 
but  for  days ;  and  died,  not  of  their  wounds 
alone,  but  of  hunger  too. 

A  chariot  of  dream  caught  her,  and, 
borne  across  the  intervening  space,she  saw 
herself  in  a  palace  where  there  were  gods 
and  monsters,  columns  of  transparent 
quartz,  floors  of  malachite,  roofs  of  gold. 
And  there,  on  a  dais,  the  Caesar  lay. 
Behind  him  a  fan,  luminous  as  a  pea- 
cock's tail,  oscillated  to  the  tinkling  of 
mysterious  keys.  In  his  crown  was  the 
lividity  of  uncolored  dawns,  in  his  sceptre 
the  dominion  of  the  world.  An  ulcer  de- 
voured his  face,  and  in  his  ear  a  boy  re- 
peated the  maxims  of  Elephantis.  Mary 
threw  herself  at  his  feet,  her  tears  fell  on 
them  as  rain  on  leaves.  "  Vengeance,  " 
she  implored  ;  but  he  listened  merely  to 
the  boy  at  his  side.  "  Death  is  your  ser- 


MART  MAGDALEN.  253 

vant,"  she  cried.  "You  command,  it 
obeys."  The  ulcer  oozed,  the  face  grew 
vague,  he  gave  no  answer.  She  stood  up 
and  menaced  him.  "  Behind  you  spectres 
crouch;  you  may  not  see  them.  I  do;  their 
name  is  To-morrow."  The  murmurs  of 
the  boy  were  her  sole  reply.  The  roof 
crumbled,  the  flooring  disappeared,  the 
emperor  faded,  and  Mary  stared  Into 
space. 

The  moon  that  had  struck  aslant  the 
tomb  had  gone,  but  where  its  beamg  had 
fallen  the  message  remained.  There  is 
light  somewhere,  it  repeated.  Across  the 
heavens  a  meteor  shot  like  a  bee.  In  the 
air  voices  whispered  confusedly.  It  is 
not  in  Rome,  one  seemed  to  say.  It  is 
not  on  earth,  another  called. 

Mary  clutched  at  her  beating  breast. 
The  sky  now  was  an  opening  rose.  What 
the  sunset  had  sown  the  dawn  would  reap. 
In  the  night  that  had  enveloped,  day 
raised  a  lattice,  and  through  it  came  a 
gust  of  higher  thought.  It  is  not  in  re- 
venge, a  voice  whispered.  It  is  not  in 
regret,  another  called. 


254  MART  MAGDALEN. 

"  I  know  it,  "  Mary  gasped.  "  Yes,  yes, 
I  know  it  now.  It  is  in  faith." 

"  And  in  abnegation  of  self." 

The  stone  which  stood  before  the  sepul- 
chre had  rolled  away.  At  her  side  the 
Christ  stood.  In  his  eyes  were  golden 
parables,  in  his  face  Truth  shone  revealed. 
She  stared,  dumb  with  the  unexpected 
joy  of  belief  confirmed,  blinded  by  the 
sudden  light,  while  he  who  had  rent  the 
bonds  of  death  passed  on  into  the  bud- 
ding day. 

When  the  brief  procession  of  the  night 
before  returned  to  the  tomb,  it  was  empty. 
At  the  door  Mary  lay,  her  arms  out- 
stretched and  vacant. 


FINIS    MAKLE. 


DATE  DUE 


MAR    i 

1973 

i_ 

,  1370  er 

MAK 

1 

CAYLORO 

PRINTED  IN  US    A. 

UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    001  260  573   9 


I     •       •  I    !    I       I  I       I  I  ||  || 

3  1210018390300 


